


Ne Me Quitte Pas

by imatrisarahtops



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Balcony Scene, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Identity Reveal, Plot, The Umbrella - Freeform, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imatrisarahtops/pseuds/imatrisarahtops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“This is my umbrella,” Adrien told him, as though he didn't quite believe it and the words would bring some sense to it.</i>
</p><p>  <i>“Even I could have told you that,” the kwami said with a shrug, his focus returning to his meal.</i></p><p>  <i>“Why did she keep my umbrella?” he asked, only half-directing the question at Plagg.</i></p><p>  <i>The kwami, however, chose to answer anyway.  “Well, she is your friend, isn't she?” he asked as he finally gave in and stuffed the cheese in his mouth.  He swallowed, closing his eyes in satisfaction.  “What's so weird about it?”</i></p><hr/><p>When Marinette sees Chat Noir on her way home in the rain, she doesn't think twice about giving him her umbrella.  Only later does he realize that this is <i>his</i> umbrella.  But why would she bother keeping it?  He's determined to figure the girl out, but since she can't seem to speak to him as Adrien, his only option is as his alter-ego.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work for the fandom, and I really hope you enjoy it. It's going to start as MariChat, really, but like most it'll branch out into other pairings in the square. I don't have a writing schedule, and I get very busy periodically, but I plan on updating as much as possible. Comments help inspire me.
> 
> I don't speak French. I'm sorry if I make mistakes or there are references that clearly don't belong to a French school. The kids are aged up to about eighteen.
> 
> Story title is from "Don't Leave Me (Ne Me Quitte Pas)" by Regina Spektor.
> 
> I have a writing playlist, so for each chapter I'll post which songs I associated with it! For this chapter: “Screen” by Twenty One Pilots & "Out on the Town” by fun.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> _I was out on the town, so I came to your window last night._  
>  _I tried not to throw stones, but I wanted to come inside._  
>  _Now I’m causing a scene, thinking you need a reason to smile…_  
>  ("Out on the Town" by fun.)

Marinette clutched the umbrella more tightly as she walked quickly down the streets.  The rain was falling harder, and she decided to take a shortcut through the park, knowing that it would bring her closer to the bakery.  Even with the large black umbrella, it was inevitable that she get a little wet from the downpour.  She knew that the only relief would be to finally get home.  She would have to change out of her pants, the hems of which were wet, as were the edges of her sleeves beneath her raincoat.  She pulled her jacket closer around her, daydreaming of her father's macarons and a steaming mug of hot chocolate and...

The branches of a tree a few steps ahead of her shook violently, and a large, dark shape in its leaves caught her attention.  She tilted her head—she _knew_ that figure.

“Chat Noir?” Marinette called, hesitantly.

The leaves rustled again, and a moment later the young man swung from one of the branches, landing right before her with a smirk.  “Well, hello _Purr_ -incess!” he said, and she thought he sounded surprisingly cheerful for being completely drenched.

Without a second thought, she stepped closer to him, shoving the umbrella into his space so that it covered both of them.  “You're positively _soaked_ ,” she remarked, sounding somewhat reproachful.

The corner of his lips quirked up.  “Don't you mean _paw_ -sitively—”

“Your puns aren't going to keep you from getting sick,” she deadpanned, frowning at his hair, plastered to his face.  “Is your suit even water-repellant?” she asked curiously—the thought had never really occurred to her, even as her superhero-self.  And then, she couldn't help but worry for his kwami, remembering the time that Tikki had gotten sick from the rain. “Just—take it,” she said quickly, nodding at the umbrella.

Chat raised his eyebrows.  “I appreciate your concern—”

But Marinette was shaking her head at the young man.  She pushed the umbrella closer to him, using her other hand to pull up the hood of her raincoat.  “You need it more than I do,” she insisted.  “Hero of Paris, and all.”

He looked at her a little hesitantly before he bowed slightly.  “Thank you, Princess,” he said, flashing her a grin.  He took the umbrella from her, his gloved fingers brushing hers as she handed it over.  He furrowed his brow slightly as he grasped it, and Marinette couldn't fight off the vague sensation of déjà vu.  “Thank you,” he murmured again, more quietly this time.

They stood for a moment, each of them silent.  At last, Chat shook his head, as though suddenly remembering himself and where he was.  “Can I walk you home, then?” he asked.  “It only seems fair, since you've sacrificed your umbrella.”

But the girl shook her head with a smile.  “I'll be fine,” she assured him.  “I don't have far to go.”

“Then I will take my leave, Princess,” he said, giving her the familiar two-fingered salute, and she gave him a cheerful wave before venturing off into the rain once more.

It wasn't until Chat had returned to his house, detransformed into Adrien, toweled his hair dry (Plagg had claimed his hair dryer), and glanced at the umbrella he'd rested against his bedside table that the realization struck him.  He picked it up by the handle, careful that it didn't drip everywhere, and found his confirmation in the small signature _Gabriel Agreste_ tag.   He glanced over at Plagg, who was burrowed inside of his blanket, savoring his camembert.

“This is my umbrella,” Adrien told him, as though he didn't quite believe it and the words would bring some sense to it.

“Even I could have told you that,” the kwami said with a shrug, his focus returning to his meal.

“Why did she keep my umbrella?” he asked, only half-directing the question at Plagg.

The kwami, however, chose to answer anyway.  “ _Well_ , she is your friend, isn't she?” he asked as he finally gave in and stuffed the cheese in his mouth.  He swallowed, closing his eyes in satisfaction.  “What's so weird about it?”

But Adrien frowned.  He naturally considered Marinette a friend—one of his _first_ friends.   If he was completely honest, however, he wasn't certain that the feeling was completely mutual.  He loved the little tastes of _real_ Marinette that he got, but when he was Adrien, those moments seemed few and far-between.   The girl that she was when she was interacting with _just about anyone else_... She was completely different, and even someone he admired a bit.

It just seemed that she didn't care much for his presence or companionship, because she hardly seemed capable of speaking to him.  There were times, of course, that he was able to witness her being herself around him, but still...

And all he could wonder was _why_ she had kept the umbrella.   As it was, the thing was mildly defective, occasionally choosing to collapse in on itself if it wasn't set _just the right way_.   He would have likely thrown it away himself if he hadn't given it to her, and that had been three years ago.

“I'm going to see her again,” Adrien murmured with determination.

Plagg rolled his eyes.  “Well, you're being painfully obvious today, aren't you?” he commented.  “You'll see her at school tomorrow.”

“No,” Adrien clarified as the kwami zipped over to him, “as Chat Noir.” Plagg raised an eyebrow at this.  “I... I need to figure her out.”

Plagg folded his arms over his tiny chest.  “Why?” he asked with a small frown.

“She doesn't like me much as Adrien,” he said with a shrug.  “She can hardly talk to me.  So I need to get to know her as Chat.”

The cat kwami shook his head.  “You _really_ still don't get this _friend_ thing, do you?” he sighed.   “Trust me, she doesn't hate you.”

Adrien frowned.  “I still want to try,” he said.  “Plagg—”

“What, now?” Plagg asked.  “You just saw her ten minutes ago!  What reason would you give her?”

“Fine,” the boy sighed, setting the umbrella back down and folding his arms to mirror the kwami.  “What do you suggest, then?”

Plagg zipped back under the blanket he'd been occupying earlier, and Adrien settled on his bed next to him.  “Nothing,” he said simply.  “Take a break!  Warm up, dry out, and I'm sure the opportunity will present itself.”

Adrien sighed, flopping back on his bed.  “Fine,” he huffed.

* * *

As it turned out, the opportunity presented itself only a few days later.

Adrien had been in the locker room, late for sports because of a photoshoot that had been scheduled during the school day, when he heard the tell-tale screams of an akuma making itself known, followed by a loud crash.  He hadn’t hesitated in transforming, and he’d been on the scene only seconds later, skidding to a halt in the gymnasium.

His eyes widened at the colossal size of the student who’d been akumatized.  He was easily twice as big as their already rather large teacher, glasses perched on his nose, and a sweatband around his head.  Chat watched as he began pelting his fellow students with balls as they ran for cover or straight out of the room.

“Hey, big guy!” Chat shouted, hoping to draw the attention away from his classmates as he pulled out his baton.  “I think you need to step up your game!”

The akumatized kid turned to Chat with a low growl of annoyance, and the superhero smirked.  He then threw one of the balls at Chat, but Chat was ready and used his baton to hit it back at him, though the villain ducked out of the way.  He let out another shout of frustration before pelting several balls in quick succession at Chat.

Chat Noir rolled out of the way.  As the student was readying himself again, Chat took advantage of the moment to extend his baton and use it as a pole-vault, launching himself at the villain.  However, the student’s reflexes were too fast, and he caught the superhero instead.

“Well, I’ve always thought I’m quite the _catch_ , but—”  Chat groaned as the villain’s grip on him tightened.  “—this is just a _bit_ extreme.”

The akuma gave Chat a nasty smile and he was _just_ wondering what was going to happen to him—Would he be thrown like the balls he’d been pelting in every direction?   The chances were very high—when _plonk_.   A red ball collided with the side of the villain’s face.

The akumatized kid scowled.  “Hey, Ballistic!  Why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?”  The villain— _Ballistic_ —kept his tight hold on Chat but turned his face to see none other than Marinette, standing defiantly at his feet.

Ballistic grinned, dropping the superhero gracelessly and rounding on the girl.  Her eyes widened as though she hadn’t quite expected him to turn on her so quickly and she backed away from the villain.

“I definitely did not mean me,” she muttered.  She backed right into a ball rack, knocking it over and falling to the floor.  She caught herself with her hands, but Chat could hear the hiss of pain as she did.  The girl pressed her wrist to her chest, grimacing in pain.

Chat was quick to respond, leaping to his feet and wrapping his arms around Marinette’s middle, hauling her away.

He stopped once they were nestled behind the bleachers.  “Thanks,” she murmured with a hesitant half-smile.  “I guess I didn’t really think that all the way through, huh?”

But Chat Noir grinned at her in response.  “I should be thanking you,” he said.  “I’m pretty sure I was very close to being one very flat cat.”  Marinette rolled her eyes at the boy’s joke.  “Is your wrist okay?” he then asked, taking the girl’s hand in his.

Marinette blinked as he examined the joint in question, before carefully pulling it away.  “I’m fine,” she assured him.  There was a loud crash behind them, and another angry growl from the akumatized boy, and she flinched a little at the sound.

“Sounds like _Ballistic_ is going—”

“Please don’t say it,” she groaned, and he chuckled.  “Just… go.”

“Until next time, Princess,” he grinned, saluting her before extending his baton, landing himself on top of the bleachers.  Ballistic turned to him at the sound of his feet touching the metal surface.  “What do you say we get the ball rolling?” he asked the villain.

After another minute or two of rolling and dodging, Chat was relieved that Ladybug made her appearance at last, swinging in before using her yo-yo to knock the balls away.

“The akuma’s got to be in his sweatband,” she panted as the two heroes took cover.  Ballistic was relentless—he was dodging all of their attacks easily, and throwing balls with incredible speed and force.  The duo was quickly becoming tired, but the villain showed no sign of stopping.

“Yeah, but he’s untoucha _-ball_ ,” Chat sighed.  He knew that Ladybug was feeling defeated if she didn’t even roll her eyes at the joke.  He frowned.  “It might be time to use your Lucky Charm,” he said, taking on a more serious tone.  She nodded.

“Lucky Charm!” she cried, and caught the red and black-spotted item as it fell from the sky.  She frowned, looking at the item in her hands—

“Ear muffs?” Chat asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked from the object in her hands to the girl.  “Do you have an idea, my Lady?”

The girl frowned, leaning around to figure out the best way to stop Ballistic.  She glanced around the room, her eyes landing on an announcer’s microphone, a megaphone, the basketball hoops hanging from the ceiling—

“I do,” she said with a nod.  “I need you to use Cataclysm on the beams holding up the basketball hoop,” she told him, pulling the two sides of the earmuffs apart.  “Then you’re going to want to cover your ears.”  She snapped the muffs over her ears, satisfied at the way they muffled all of the sound.  He looked at her curiously for a moment before nodding, using his staff to launch himself toward the ceiling.

Ladybug could faintly hear Chat shouting something at Ballistic, catching his attention while she snatched up the megaphone and ran over to where the microphone was for the school’s sporting events.  She watched as her partner used his power on the metal beams holding up the basketball hoop before dropping down to the floor and clamping his hands over his ears in anticipation.  Ladybug swallowed, pressing the button on the megaphone, switching on the microphone and pressing them close to each other as she squeezed her eyes shut.

The resulting sound hurt her ears even with the earmuffs on.  She opened her eyes to watch Ballistic slam his hands over his ears, and then _—crunch!_   The remaining hold the basketball hoop had to the ceiling gave away, and she turned the two sound devices off just in time for the hoop to fall over Ballistic’s face.  The villain fell to his knees.

“Chat!” she shouted, wrenching off her ear muffs.  Luckily, the boy heard her and leapt up, snatching the sweatband off of Ballistic’s forehead and throwing it to her.  She pulled at the cloth’s seam, ripping it and dropping it to the ground.  She pulled her yo-yo out, cleansing the akuma before bidding it farewell.  “Bye-bye, _petit papillon_ ,” she said with a smile as the white butterfly fluttered off.  Then she tossed the earmuffs into the air.  “Miraculous Ladybug!”

The magic washed over the gymnasium, leaving everything as it was before.

“ _Bien joué_!” the duo exclaimed with their usual celebratory fist-bump.

Ladybug smiled sadly at the boy who was blinking in confusion.  “Poor kid,” she said.  “He was just upset about being picked last.”

“Well,” Chat said with a smirk, “he didn’t have to go—”

“Don’t say it,” Ladybug quickly said, holding up her hands.

The boy smiled before being struck with the sudden memory.  “I should find Marinette,” he murmured off-handedly.

Ladybug tilted her head questioningly.  “Marinette?”

“A girl that goes here,” he quickly explained, glancing around the gym as though he half-expected to see her show up at that moment.  “She helped me out, but she fell on her wrist…”

Ladybug blinked at the boy for a moment.  “I’m sure she’s fine,” she said simply.  “The Miraculous Cure will have fixed her.”  If Chat noticed the way that she flexed her own fingers, rolling her wrist, he didn’t say anything.  She cleared her throat, and put a hand on his shoulder.  “She’s fine.  Besides, we have to get going before we detransform.”

Chat nodded vaguely at this.  “You’re right,” he said, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he almost sounded disappointed.  A millisecond later, however, his smile was back on his face, and he swept down in a bow, taking Ladybug’s hand and pressing a kiss to the knuckles.  “Until next time, my Lady.”

“See you later, _Chaton_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes affectionately before taking off.

Chat in turn ran off to the locker rooms, just in time to turn back into Adrien.  He sighed, catching Plagg before letting the kwami settle back in his chest pocket.  “What did I tell you?” he said to the blond.  “The opportunity presented itself!”

Adrien let out a small laugh.  “Yeah, but I didn't get to talk to her much, did I?” he muttered.  He peeked out of the locker room, glancing around to see if he was alone.  His eyes fell on Marinette, who was talking to the akumatized boy on the bleachers.  He still looked slightly out of it, but he could hear the girl comforting him.  “And it looks like I won’t now, either,” he grumbled.  But then, an idea struck him and he smiled.  He glanced down at Plagg.

“All right, lover-boy,” the cat kwami sighed, “wait until _after_ I’ve had my camembert to even _tell_ me about this ‘brilliant' scheme I can see you brewing, all right?”

* * *

Even after a recovery period and snack, however, the kwami still wasn't thrilled about the boy's plan.  Plagg folded his arms across his chest.  “You heard Ladybug,” he grumbled.  “You know that girl is _fine_.”

Adrien pouted.  “Yeah but—”

“The excuse won’t fly,” the kwami argued, shaking his head.

Adrien huffed out a breath, folding his arms petulantly in a stance that matched Plagg’s.  Then, the blond broke into a smile once more.  He crossed the room, picking up the umbrella that was still resting against his nightstand.  “Then I’ll go to also return her umbrella!” he said brightly.

“You mean _your_ umbrella?”

“Yeah, but she doesn't know it’s mine,” Adrien told him.  “She gave it to Chat.  And Chat doesn’t need to know it’s Adrien’s and not hers, right?”

Plagg shook his head.  “Kid, I don’t understand why you’re trying this hard—” 

“Come on, Plagg,” he said, dropping the umbrella on his bed for a moment and holding up his hand.  “ _Transformez moi!_ ”

Plagg groaned, but a moment later Adrien stood clad in his Chat Noir outfit.  He unlatched his baton, instead replacing it with the umbrella on his back.  He nodded, satisfied, and then bounded out his window with his staff extended.  He leapt across rooftops until he was at the corner across from the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

Chat Noir landed on Marinette’s roof with a soft _thud_.   As he did, he heard a crash from below him, and he flinched slightly.  He had been attempting to be quiet, but undoubtedly the girl had heard him.  Seconds later, he heard the trapdoor’s latch unlock, and then watched as two bright blue eyes hesitantly peered out from a tiny gap.  He gave her a tentative and somewhat abashed smile and wave, and Marinette threw the hatch open the entire way.

“Chat Noir?” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice as she climbed up to join him on the roof.

“Good evening, my Princess,” he said, giving a small bow.

Marinette’s eyebrows were knit together, and she was frowning at the boy.  She was hugging herself, fighting off the slight chill from the night air.  “What are you doing here?” she asked, still sounding rather confused.

“I was just… in the neighborhood,” he said, and he could practically feel Plagg’s judgment, even without him there, “and I thought I would check up on how you were doing after today.”

Immediately her hand went to her wrist, rubbing it absent-mindedly.  “Fine,” she said slowly.  “I mean, Ladybug’s Cure fixes everything, doesn’t it?” she added with a slight challenge to her voice.

“Of course!” he said.  “I just wanted to be sure.”  He grinned despite her dubious expression.  “And since I’m here, I thought I might return this as well…”  He reached around his back, unsheathing the umbrella and handing it over to her.

Marinette looked from the umbrella to the boy, considering him with curiosity.  “Thank you,” she said.  “You didn't have to bring it back,” she added.  “I would have understood.”

The superhero shrugged.  “It’s a nice umbrella,” he teased.  “I wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

At this, the girl chuckled, and the boy relaxed at last.  “It really isn’t,” she commented.  “If you don’t put it up just right, it falls back in.”  Still, she smiled more warmly at Chat.  “Still, thank you.”

Chat leaned against the railing of the balcony.  “If it’s not that great, then why keep it?” he asked, and he hoped that the question came off as casual.

Marinette smiled fondly as the looked down at the umbrella before shrugging.  “A… friend gave it to me,” she said simply.

“Oh?” he pressed on.

She shook her head.  “Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” she told him.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” he countered.

She rolled her eyes, sighing in defeat and leaning against the railing beside him.  “He and I got off on the wrong foot,” she told Chat.  “I thought I caught him pulling a prank on me, but it ended up being this other girl in our class.  He tried to explain that he was trying to _fix_ things, but I wouldn’t listen.”   She smiled.  “He still apologized to me, made sure I knew the truth.  I liked that.  He didn’t need to.  He’s rich and he was instantly kind of popular and it really didn’t matter what I thought of him.  But he still wanted to make sure I knew he wasn’t trying to be mean.”

Chat felt a bubble of pride in his chest.  For so long he had concerned himself that maybe Marinette hadn’t forgiven him, after all.  But this was proof, straight from her mouth.  She didn’t hate him.

“Anyway,” she continued.  “It was pouring after school, and he gave me his umbrella.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

He nodded.  He felt the relief flooding to every part of his body.  There was still the mystery of why Marinette couldn’t be herself around him, and his mind suggested dozens of other prospects—Was it his friendship Chloe?  Was it intimidation because of his fame?  Was it the way his name was attached to his father’s?—but that suddenly seemed less important.  She had called him her friend, and she had no reason to be lying right now.  Whatever the real reason was, he could figure that out a bit later.

The girl yawned, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth.  “It’s getting late, Chat,” she said, looking to him and hugging her arms closer to her chest.  “And chilly.”

“If you wanted me to keep you warm, Princess, all you had to do was ask,” he remarked playfully, smiling as the girl rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you have school tomorrow?” she asked him, smirking as he nodded.  “You should go home and sleep.”

“Ah, but that means having to abandon the princess in her tower!” he said, feigning offense.

“If it means this princess gets to go to bed, it has to be done,” she responded, sighing dramatically as she did.  She giggled.

Something about the way she smiled, with just a hint of laughter and her eyes bright, inspired Adrien to be bold.  “Perhaps I’ll just have to come back, then,” he said.  His tone was light, but he hoped she caught the serious intention behind it.

“Don’t cats only come back if you feed them?” she asked teasingly.

“Well, I’m told that you live on top of the best bakery in Paris,” he said.  “So if that’s an offer…”

Marinette chuckled.  “Not tonight,” she said, pushing herself off the railing.

“Is that a promise?” he pressed on, leaning closer to her.

She just rolled her eyes.  “ _Good night_ , Chat Noir,” she said, taking a step down through her trap door.

“Good night, princess,” he responded quietly, watching as she descended down into her room, waiting for the sound of the latch being redone.  At last, once it was, he climbed atop the railing, extending his staff and departing.

Once he was a few rooftops away, he looked back, watching as the light in the room on top of the bakery went out.  He smiled.  “Well,” he murmured, “she didn’t say _no.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goodness. Thank you to everyone for the kudos and comments. This week ended up being an extremely difficult time for me, due to a tragedy at my work that I won't go into. But I swear, the response to this story has definitely helped lighten up a really dark time. It gave me something else to focus on, and I'm so thankful for your encouragement because it got me through a few days that were nearly impossible.
> 
> The funny part about this chapter is that it ended up like three times as long as originally intended, so I've split it up. Apologies if, as a result, this seems almost like a bit of filler/transition. I promise, with the next chapter comes plot and the start of something more.
> 
> As this chapter was split, the song for this part is "All I Need" by Matchbox 20.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> _And that's all that I need, yeah, someone else to cling to,_  
>  Someone I can lean on until I don't need to.  
> Just stay all through the night, in the morning let me down,  
> 'Cause that's all that I need right now.  
> ("All I Need" by Matchbox 20)

It wasn’t until almost a week later that Adrien found himself able to visit Marinette once again.

At first, when he realized that his night was free (all his practices and lessons had finally ended, he'd already had his last photo shoot for the week, his father was away on a business trip for the weekend, he had no patrol scheduled with Ladybug) he had simply collapsed face-down on his bed with the hopes of sleeping until Monday morning.  And honestly, he felt rather content with the idea.  It was, of course, at that moment that Plagg decided to pull at the boy's hair, forcing him to turn his head.

“So, I'm guessing now might be a bad time to mention it, but we’re out of Camembert,” Plagg said.

 _Of course_.  Somewhere in this mind, Adrien had already known this.  It had been on his infinitely-long to-do list for the week to replenish his supply for the kwami.  The only issue was that he hadn't had a spare moment to do it.

"What a pity,” Adrien mumbled, refusing to even open his eyes.

" _Come on_ ," his companion said, sitting on Adrien's cheek.  The boy quickly swatted him away.

"It's too late to get any, anyway, Plagg," Adrien sighed, rolling over onto his back.

Plagg hovered right above his face, poking at his cheek with his tail.  "Fine, it doesn't have to be Camembert!" he conceded.  "I'll settle for _any_ cheese.  Anything _with_ cheese—pizza, some crackers, a Danish..!"

At this, Adrien's eyes opened just a crack. He looked at the kwami, considering him thoughtfully.  "A Danish?" he asked.

"If it is filled with delicious cheese, then _yes_!" Plagg said desperately.  "Do you have one?"

The boy smiled slightly at him.  "No, but I do know where we can get some," he said, his mischievous grin widening.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Plagg sighed.

"Marinette surely has some," he said, sitting up.  "The bakery will be closed, but we could just... _drop by._.."

The kwami groaned.  "Is it too late to say I'm not hungry anymore?" Plagg asked.

But Adrien only continued to smile at him.  "I thought you liked Marinette!" he said.  He suddenly felt full of energy again, excited at the prospect of visiting his classmate.  "I bet you'd like her even more after you've been fed."

The cat kwami looked as though he was having a serious internal battle, deciding whether or not the potentially delicious snack was worth the work.  Adrien could practically hear the silent debate he was having with himself.

"It doesn't have to be long, either," Adrien added, hoping it would win his argument.  "At most, an hour."

"Half an hour," Plagg responded.

"Forty-five minutes?" Adrien offered in compromise.

The kwami dropped his hands in defeat, looking to the ceiling.  " _Fine_ ," he said, glaring at the boy.  "But I expect a whole wheel of Camembert tomorrow."

"Done," Adrien said easily, grinning as he jumped to his feet.  "Plagg, _transformez moi_!"

* * *

Less than ten minutes later, Chat Noir's feet touched down on the bakery roof.  He assumed that Marinette could hear his arrival, just as she had the previous time.  Still, attempting politeness, he knocked on the trap door before standing back and awaiting her appearance.

The girl was less hesitant this time, throwing the door open fully.  Her expression as she looked up at Chat was more expectant this time, though still speaking of mild confusion and concern.

"Good evening, Princess," he said, bowing low as she climbed up to the roof.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked, her tone a little dry and teasing, an eyebrow raised as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Just dropping by," he said casually, giving her a winning smile.  "Thought I would check up on my favorite civilian."

"You flatter me, truly," she responded in the same voice, putting a hand to her chest.  "But if that is all..."

"Actually," Chat said quickly, reaching out his hand to grab her arm.  She glanced back at him, both eyebrows raising this time.  "I hate to ask, but..."  His hand flew to the back of his neck, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed.

Marinette tilted her head, looking at him curiously.  "What is it?" she asked.

"I have a bit of a strange request," he admitted.  "The, erm... the _thing_ that gives me my powers…”  He cringed a little inwardly at the word ‘thing’, unable to describe what Plagg was.  He was sure that later the kwami would give him hell for it, but he plowed on.  “I feed him.  And well, we ran out of his usual..."

To his relief, Marinette wasn't looking at him like he was completely crazy.  He guessed that it likely had something to do with Alya—the girl would have run all of her theories on Ladybug and Chat Noir by her best friend, and surely one of those theories was at least a _little_ bit close to the real thing.

Either way, she was only nodding at his explanation, and Adrien relaxed a little at the girl's ability to understand.

"And who better to visit than a baker's daughter?" she offered with a smirk.

Chat nodded quickly.  "Exactly!" he said.

"I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind if some of our leftovers went to one of our very own superheroes," she said.  "So what does… _he_ … eat, anyway?  Cookies, or...?"

"Cheese, actually," Chat grimaced.  "I was hoping..."

"Gougères?" Marinette offered.  "Or a Danish?"

“Either—anything," Chat said.  "I don't want to be picky.  As it is, I'm in your debt."

"I'll be right back," she assured him before climbing back down into her bedroom.

The boy leaned against the balcony railing.  He felt a little awkward as he waited, but a few minutes later she had popped up through her trap door once more, carrying two boxes in her arms, tied prettily with string.  His eyes widened, and she smiled.

“One with everything we serve with cheese,” she told him, holding up the box in her left hand.  “And one sampler for the hero himself,” she added, indicating the other.

Chat took the boxes from her, lifting the lid slightly to peek at the croissants, eclairs, tartes, macarons, profiteroles, and more in his own.  “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” she assured him.

“Well, I’m very grateful.”

She smiled in response, before furrowing her brow with a grimace.  “I’m not sure if that was a pun, or…”

He laughed a little.  “Not an intentional one, Princess,” he admitted.  “I have a question, though—can I share these?” he asked, tapping a gloved finger on his box of treats.

“Of course,” she said.

“Great.”  He placed the box for Plagg down on the spool table on her balcony, untying the string of his own and placing it atop the other box.  Then, he lifted the lid and held it out to her.  “Tell me, which is your favorite?”

Marinette blinked in surprise.  She had expected Chat Noir to take the box and perhaps share with his family at home, or maybe even bring it along on a patrol to give a treat to Ladybug.  But instead, he was offering her one of the very sweets she’d just given him.  She was pleasantly surprised.

She pulled out one of the pale pink confections, holding it up for him to see.  “The rose macarons are my favorite,” she said, taking a bite.  “No one makes them as good as maman.”

He grinned, picking one of the sweets that matched hers. He hummed in satisfaction as he took a bite, closing his eyes as he savored the flavor. " _Meow_ -nificent," he told her once he swallowed.  She smiled with pride.  "It's a shame I haven't eaten more treats by your parents."

Marinette beamed at the compliment. "I suppose that means I won't be able to get rid of you, now," she said.

He chuckled, remembering the joke she’d made previously. "Not if you _wanted_ to," he told her.  He leaned in a little closer, his palm to the side of his mouth as he whispered like it was a secret, "But would you _really_ want to?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "That depends on whether or not you behave," she countered, gesturing at him with the remaining half of the macaron before finishing it. 

"I am a very well-mannered cat!" he objected in mock-offense. “I’ll have you know that I'm a _purr_ -fect gentleman."

"I'm sure," she giggled. "At least this time you aren't keeping me up on a school night. That wasn't very gentlemanly."

“But it was all to see that you were okay and return your umbrella,” he said with a pout.  “So, gentleman.”

“Uh-huh," she said, plucking an eclair from the box. She took a bite, then folded her arms. “That was it?”

He wasn’t sure what it was.  There was something about her that made him feel so bold and honest.  Perhaps it was the way she seemed to challenge everything, the way that she responded to his teasing just as quickly as he dished it out.  Perhaps it was her expression, that smirk with a quirked eyebrow.  Perhaps it was that when she pushed him back, it reminded him of how Ladybug similarly spurned every advance, playful or serious, yet still the girl in front of him seemed to be something so _real_ and _tangible_ and he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he _needed_ to know her.

"And just to see you again," he admitted.  Even he surprised himself with how honest it sounded.  It was true, but when the admission had escaped his lips, he felt open and vulnerable in a way that he hadn’t expected.

Marinette froze, blinking with wide eyes and a blush creeping onto her cheeks. He could hear the question without her even saying it—' _but why?_ '

Chat was mildly curious what the girl must think of him—certainly she just wrote him off as a bit of a flirt with a love of cat puns. Sure, he enjoyed a good pun, and being able to tell them all the time was just a perk of being a superhero; being able to flirt without judgment was just a benefit of wearing a mask that hid his other famous identity. But he hoped she saw that he was _more_ than that, and in the same way, by the fact that he wanted to keep coming back and keep seeing her, so was she.

He watched as the questioning look on her face slowly transformed into something more gentle and caring, like the face he saw in class when she would try to help a friend—and maybe that's what _they_ were now, even if it seemed a little strange.

She held up a finger, as though to ask him to wait, backing away.  ”I’ll be right back," she told him before disappearing once more.

He waited for her, fidgeting for several minutes. For a moment he worried that she wouldn't be coming back, that he had said too much, but the look on her face...

Then she reemerged, this time with two ceramic mugs. She held one out to him, and he looked down at the cup of hot chocolate, steaming in the cool night air.  He clutched it in both hands, eyes falling back on the girl.

" _Merci_ ," he said with a small bit of surprise. He took a sip, reveling in its sweetness with just a small hint of cinnamon.

He watched as she seated herself in the chair beneath her tarp. She folded her feet up, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knees. "Tell me about you, Chat Noir," she said. At his expression, she quickly added, "No secret identities or any of that. Just…” She smiled sheepishly. "I think everyone gets in the habit of thinking that they know Paris's superheroes so well, but... You keep surprising me. I think it's become pretty clear that I don't."

Chat felt the excitement bubble inside of him. This was his chance—the opportunity he had so hoped for. He settled himself on the wall beside her, legs hanging off the side. "What do you want to know?"

She hummed thoughtfully. "Favorite color?”

"Green," he said easily. "Yours?"

She smiled at the question. "Pink," she said. "Favorite season?"

"Probably autumn." He looked at her expectantly in turn.

“Mine is spring."

And so it continued for some time, long after the mugs of hot chocolate were empty.  They asked non-invasive questions and gave simple answers, and it was amazing how easily the conversation flowed from there. They laughed and told jokes, occasionally poking fun at each other and their answers.

"I'm just saying," she giggled at one such instance, "that if you liked dogs, you'd kind of be in trouble—"

A shrill beep cut her off, and she looked at him, mildly alarmed. 

Chat groaned. "A- _paw_ -logies, Princess," he sighed, showing her his ring with the flickering pad on the paw print.  "I may have cut a deal with my kwami about how long I would stay, and I'm guessing he was keeping count."  He sighed, dropping himself to the ground. "This is my five-minute warning before I detransform."

"Ah," she said, a little awkwardly before her grin returned again. "Well, I expect he's eager to have his treats, anyway."

"He's quite a pig," Chat agreed as he moved to pick up the boxes of pastries. "But you'll have made him very happy."

She continued to smile, taking the box they had eaten some treats from and retying the ribbon. "If he likes them, he's welcome to more," she assured him.

"And me?" he asked, unable to stop himself with a smirk. 

She sighed theatrically. "I suppose," she allowed.

He grinned.  Another beep.

"That's my cue."

Marinette nodded, offering a small wave. "Good night, Chat Noir."

He swept low in a bow. "Good night, my Princess," he said, taking the boxes under one arm, extending his baton with the other and disappearing into the night.

* * *

Marinette descended into her room once more. She left the two empty mugs on her desk to take down in the morning.  She yawned—she was feeling tired from a rather long week, even with only the one akuma attack.  She pulled her pajamas out of a drawer, changing into them quickly and she had just seated herself on her bed when Tikki zipped up to her from her hiding spot. The red kwami was smiling. 

"What was all that about?" she asked playfully.

Marinette shrugged. "Just... talking,” she said, rubbing her eyes a little tiredly.

But Tikki was persistent.  ”With _Chat Noir_!” she said.

Marinette sighed. "He's my partner, Tikki."

"Yeah, but he doesn't _know_ _that_ , does he?" the kwami pressed on.

Marinette frowned, laying back against her pillows. "No," she admitted, eyes avoiding her companion.

Tikki floated down next to her, resting her chin in her tiny hands. "I think he likes you, Marinette!" she said excitedly. 

" _No_ ," she said quickly, an embarrassed blush on her cheeks. "He likes Ladybug."

"What's the problem?" Tikki asked then, sitting up to look at the girl curiously. "This is what you always wanted, right? Chat Noir wants to know the you when you're not dressed as Ladybug."

"Yeah," she sighed. "But he doesn't _know_ that it's me."

"Isn't that even better?" Tikki countered. "He wants to know _you_ , Marinette!"

Marinette took her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing it thoughtfully. 

In all honesty, Tikki was probably right. She had, for some time, wanted for Chat Noir to like her civilian self, especially if they ever were to potentially reveal themselves to each other. Something about his reverence of Ladybug always intimidated her. He put her on a pedestal, but she was very aware that she was nowhere near perfect.

She hated to admit it, but his opinion of her mattered—possibly more than anyone else's. He was her partner, the one she trusted with her physical being whenever they were fighting akumas and saving Paris. But even under all of that, she worried that when he realized that beneath the spotted mask she was just Marinette, average student with a talent for designing and a penchant for tripping over her own feet. She was still Ladybug—quick-witted and clever, resourceful and courageous with a strong moral compass, even with occasional bouts of rashness. She had proved that to herself, time and time again. But somewhere deep down she was worried that others couldn't see that in her. There was a reason, she thought mournfully, her secret had stayed safe for so long, even with her best friend leading the campaign to discover the hero's identity. 

But really, if Chat Noir was interested in Marinette, in whatever capacity, on whatever level that he was, it should make her feel better. He could get to know Ladybug without her spots, and maybe if and when the time came, he wouldn't be let down by the truth of it all.

But then, of course, came the guilt that now she would be lying to him about her double life on _both_ sides...

She groaned. 

"You're making this more complicated than it needs to be," Tikki scolded her, as though she could read the girl's mind. "I thought you'd be happy that Chat Noir wanted to know both sides of you."

"I would be happier if it was Adrien," Marinette admitted.

"At least you can _talk_ to Chat.”

Marinette glared at her kwami. "Rude," she murmured.

Tikki shrugged in response.   “All I’m saying,” she went on, “is that this is _good,_ Marinette.  Chat can get to know you as Marinette, and you can get to know him, too.  He’s a good guy.  You can trust him.”

The girl sighed, trying to do as Tikki suggested and simplify it in her mind.  “I guess you’re right,” she said, offering her kwami a small smile.  “It would help our partnership, wouldn’t it?”

“Exactly!” Tikki beamed.  “This can only _strengthen_ your friendship.  I’m sure of it!”

Marinette nodded.  “It would be pretty nice to get to know him, I suppose,” she admitted.  “We’ve been fighting together so long, but as Ladybug, I always refuse to talk about our normal lives, even when we’re just patrolling.  It wouldn’t be so bad to learn a little more about him.”

“And you can be so much more open as Marinette,” Tikki added.

“I’ll do it,” she said resolutely, and Tikki zoomed over to her face, hugging and nuzzling her cheek.  The girl giggled.

“I’m proud of you,” the kwami said.  “This is a big step!  And I bet you’ve made Chat happy, too.”

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed with a sigh as Tikki pulled away again.  “Let’s hope so.”

* * *

It was as a result of this that Marinette found herself sitting on her balcony again the next evening.  She prepared herself, wearing a warm sweater and bringing a pot of hot tea along with her sketchbook.  She was drawing when Chat stopped by, a pleasantly-surprised grin on his lips.

“Were you expecting someone, Princess?” he asked, collapsing and holstering his staff.

She smiled as she poured him a cup of tea.  “Just a stray,” she retorted.  “He didn’t disappoint.”

The smile on his face was so genuine, that she felt her heart warm at the sight.

“Plagg says ‘thank you’, by the way,” he said suddenly, as though he’d almost forgotten.

She tilted her head curiously.  “Plagg?”

“My kwami,” he clarified.  “That is—the—er— _thing_ …”

“That gives you your powers,” she said with a nod.  “He was happy, then?”

“Very.”

The girl was surprised with how quickly it became a routine.  Near-nightly visits from the masked hero, dropping by for just a few minutes or longer, sharing a cup of tea or hot chocolate and sometimes a snack as they discussed everything from the different flavors of macarons that she gave him to her current designs.

And what surprised her even more was that she found she didn’t really mind.

Instead, she found herself quickly becoming fond of the boy, letting herself interact with him in ways that she wouldn’t otherwise.  Within a matter of a few days, filled with late-night conversations about nothing, he had become a true friend to the girl behind her mask.

Once, she might have chastised Chat Noir.  She knew that, realistically, he was being a little reckless, especially when he offered her small snippets of his real life.  As Ladybug, she would have probably scolded him and reminded him that it was too dangerous for them to let even each other know about their true selves.  In fact, it had been her mantra that they couldn’t reveal themselves as a precaution.  Yet here he was, sitting on her civilian self’s balcony, sharing tea and sweets, and instead of letting herself be wary she found herself enjoying it, despite the fact that she was allowing them to both break her own rule.

She knew that she was being just as reckless as he was.  But with every time that Chat visited, his excuses for doing so quickly faded, and with them, so did her resolve to care.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are amazing. I really mean it too--thank you for the kudos and comments. They're helping me so much right now. I can't say thank you enough.
> 
> This chapter took a bit of a different turn than originally planned, mostly because I needed the fluff to potentially outweigh the originally planned angst. As I briefly mentioned last chapter, there was a tragedy at the school that I work at, and so I needed to focus on the happy in this chapter. Next chapter--more akumas, fluff, and all that good stuff! Yay!
> 
> Song for this chapter: "I'm a Pirate, You're a Princess" by PlayRadioPlay!
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> _I am a pirate, you are a princess._  
>  _We could sail the seven seas,_  
>  _Bring back some presents for all the people._  
>  _Everyone would love us, even Courtney would love us._  
>  ("I'm a Pirate, You're a Princess" by PlayRadioPlay!)

As the next two weeks passed, their late-night conversations were cut a bit shorter, and they usually fell back onto the one event that was (although Chat did not let on) consuming both of them.

As it was, the school gymnasium was completely transformed.  The room had become a whole new environment.  Streamers and balloons were all hung in what had been deemed as _sophisticated_ colors (white, black, silver, and gold) and chairs and tables had been set out and dressed.  A banner indicating that it was the school’s auction was strung from the ceiling, the curly letters painted out by Marinette.  Mylène and Alix inflated more balloons while Juleka and Rose hung them.  Ivan and Kim were moving in more tables and chairs from the hall, and Adrien was helping Nino and Max test the sound system and lights.  Alya and Nathanaël were checking over the inventory, ensuring that all donations and class creations were accounted for and given a starting price.  Even Chloe was helping, hanging up one of the banners as Sabrina held the ladder.

It was looking amazing, and all of the students were excited.  They were hoping to raise as much money as possible for a class trip, and they had gotten a plethora of donations, including many from the parents.  Alya’s mom would help with the catering.  Marinette had worked to bake several boxes of pastries and treats, Nathanaël had created a beautiful painting of the Eiffel Tower, and a few of the girls had gotten together to make different bracelets and jewelry.  Collaboratively, the class had even worked on creating a mural of the Paris skyline—a few of them had sketched it out, and then they had all worked very hard to paint it in on a large canvas.  Chloe had even pulled through again—not only had she convinced her father to auction off an all-inclusive weekend stay in his hotel, but had persuaded him to use his influence to bring in a large number of wealthy citizens willing to invest “in the name of education”.

The entire class was buzzing with excitement.  It seemed as though they would raise a lot of money for what was sure to be a _phenomenal_ class trip.

“Nice job, Chloe,” Max commented, looking over at the girl’s handiwork as she climbed down the ladder again.

“I know,” she responded, smirking at him.

He adjusted his glasses.  “I think the left side needs to be raised just about four centimeters, though—then it’ll be straight and match Marinette’s,” he went on, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder to where the girl was tying the string of a matching banner on the opposite side of the gymnasium.  The girl smiled at her own accomplishment and climbed back down, going over to Alya.

Chloe huffed at this.

“Dude, she did a great job on these!” Nino commented as he and Adrien joined Max again.  “The banners look awesome, don’t they, man?”  He turned to the blond boy beside him.

“She’s really impressive,” Adrien said, nodding as he looked around.  “I mean—everyone did a great job, really.”

“ _I’m_ just glad Daddy was able to bring in so much interest,” Chloe said, putting a hand to her chest.  “Without it, we wouldn’t be getting _any_ money.”

“Hey boys!” Alya called from the door, and Max, Nino, and Adrien all turned to her.  “Come help bring in some of this stuff!”

The three boys jogged over to help and again Chloe huffed in annoyance.  “She’s not that great,” she muttered, folding her arms against her chest.

“Well, no one is as great as _you_ ,” Sabrina chimed in, and Chloe smirked.

“I know,” she said.  “But we can’t have everyone fawning over her—especially not Adrien.”  She watched the boys carrying a few more boxes of donations, placing them on the table.  Her eyes caught the girl in question coming through the door, carrying a gigantic cake box, so tall she could hardly see over it.

Chloe smiled wickedly.

The second that Marinette was close enough, the blond girl stuck her foot out.  The other girl, unable to see over the huge box, stumbled over Chloe’s foot, the box flying from her hands.  She fell into Rose, who in turn knocked over Mylène.  The balloon Mylène was inflating flew from her hands, smacking Ivan in the side of the face.  Ivan dropped the table he and Kim were moving as a result, and Kim fell back into a ladder, which pulled one of the banners from the ceiling—and with it, a long line of streamers and balloons.  The ladder collided with one of the tables as it fell, collapsing it and sending a can of paint spilling across the gymnasium floor.  Nathanaël had tried to catch the can but failed, slipping as a result in the mess.  And the moment that everyone thought that _at least the disaster was over_ , the box of cake landed, exploding with a _splat_ against the painting they had all worked so hard on.

There was a horrible, gut-wrenching quiet that settled over the class—even Chloe was shocked into silence, taken aback at the chain of events.  But after a moment, she scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulders.

“Great going, loser,” she spat at Marinette.

The dark-haired girl stared at everything, completely horrified.  “I’m so sorry!” she gasped, getting shakily to her feet.  “It was an accident—I don’t know—I tripped—”

Chloe’s arms were folded tightly across her chest.  “That much is obvious,” she said nastily.  “You ruined _everything_.”

“That’s not fair, Chloe,” Alya said heatedly, stepping over to back up her best friend.  “It was an _accident_.”

“That doesn’t fix anything!” Chloe retorted.  “That doesn’t give us back the _hours_ we spent working on everything.”

“We can still fix this,” Alya told her firmly.  “We’ll just have to work a little harder.”

“Maybe you don’t have a life, but I don’t want to spend another entire day locked up in here,” Chloe shot back.  “And some of this can’t be fixed in just a _day_ before the auction.”

“We spent _a week_ on that painting,” Sabrina added, and Chloe nodded at this.

“She’s right,” Kim said.  “There’s no way we can do that again.”

But Alya refused to back down, looking challengingly at him.  “Then we’ll figure something else out.”

Alix shook her head.  “Let’s just get back to work,” she muttered.  There was a small murmur of agreement, as the students dejectedly got to work on fixing things.

Marinette watched as Kim and Ivan and Alix set to work trying to fix the collapsed table, Max setting the ladder up once more.  Mylène, Rose, and Juleka all began gathering the streamers and balloons, sorting out which ones were salvageable, tossing others into a pile to throw away.  Max, Nino, and Adrien all started cleaning up the paint from the floor with a mop and some rags they got from the custodian closet.

Marinette jumped when she felt a hand on her back.  “Are you okay?” Alya asked softly, and the dark-hair girl forced herself to nod.  She couldn’t seem to make her voice work.

She walked away from her best friend, over to where Nathanaël, his pants stained from the paint he’d slipped in, was examining their painting.

“Can we save it?” she asked timidly.

“I doubt it,” he said, and she felt miserable with how defeated he sounded.  She knew that he had probably been the one to work the hardest on the painting, compiling photos and sketching out most of the design.  He had been the proudest once it was completed.  And now, she reasoned, he was naturally going to be the most upset that it had been so quickly ruined.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” she told him.

“Unfortunately that doesn’t fix it,” he told her, without even looking at her.

She swallowed tightly.  Feeling dismissed, she turned, hoping to help in a different way.  She moved to where the girls were sorting through the decorations.  However, Rose quickly waved her off.

“It’s fine!” she said, her usually cheerful voice sounding strained.  “Really, we can do this ourselves.”

She instead went to the broken table, but Alix shook her head.  “You’ve done enough,” she said, a slight edge to her voice.

Marinette bit her lip.  All she wanted to do was make things right—to help fix the mess that she made.

“She’s right,” Chloe said, and Marinette turned to her.  “You have done _more_ than enough.  So why don’t you do us all a favor and _leave_ already?”

“That’s completely unfair!” Alya shouted, again jumping to her best friend’s defense.  “We need all the help we can get right now—”

“Yeah, _help_ ,” Chloe responded.  “She’s just a walking hazard.”

Alya opened her mouth again to say something more but Marinette shook her head.  She glanced around the room once more, looking at the way everyone was avoiding her eyes, how no one had said anything even close to defending her.  She sighed.  “She’s right,” Marinette murmured.

The girl dipped her head, turning on her heel and walking out of the room as quickly as possible.  Her stomach was churning, and she felt the tears threatening to spill.  She’d _really_ messed up.

“Marinette, wait!”

She turned, a little surprised at hearing Adrien’s voice and seeing the boy running into the hall after her.  She felt her heart flutter a little with hope, but a beat later, Chloe was at the boy’s shoulder and again Marinette shrank back.

“Don’t bother with her,” the blond girl said nastily, looking from the model to the girl in question with a glare.  “She isn’t worth your time.”

And finally, the dam broke.  Marinette turned, running through the front doors of the school.

* * *

Chat frowned when he saw that Marinette’s bedroom lights were off.  He bit his lip warily.  For a brief moment he considered turning back.  But as soon as the thought came to mind, he knew that it was not something he could do with a sound conscience.  He took a deep breath, leaping the final distance, landing softly on her rooftop.  He put his baton away, crouching down and knocking on the trapdoor.

He didn’t even want to think about how much he hated that she wasn’t sitting out there, waiting for him like had become their norm.

He waited a couple of minutes, his frown deepening as he did so.  Perhaps she was already asleep.  He felt the guilt eating at him—he should have come by earlier to check on her, and he would have, if only every obligation he had hadn’t run late, the work for the auction, then everything for his father, time working against him—

He heard the slide of the lock and took a step back.  Slowly Marinette opened the trapdoor, coming to join him on the rooftop but her eyes cast downwards instead of meeting his own.  He could instantly tell that she was trying to hide the fact that she’d been crying, but it was written all over every inch her—from her red, puffy eyes and pink nose to her tense shoulders and neck to her slumped posture.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” she responded, her voice sounding rough—just more proof of what he suspected.

“I… heard what happened today,” he told her, and he felt his stomach twist at the lie.  He wanted to say more—that none of it was her fault, and that what everyone had said was _wrong_ because they were just exhausted and overworked.  But instead, he was standing in front of her, pretending that he wasn’t in fact Adrien Agreste, or one of her classmates at all.

She smiled self-depricatingly.  “I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said.  She took a seat, leaning back against the wall with her plants.  She pulled her legs up to her chest, hiding her face in her knees.

“Princess,” he said hesitantly, reaching out to her.

“I’m not a princess,” she snapped, glaring at him, and he recoiled.  She sighed.  “I’m sorry.”  She swallowed tightly.  “I’m not, though.  You shouldn’t call me one.”

“Why do you say that?”

“A princess is someone that people admire and look up to, someone who’s perfect and always composed and graceful,” she said sadly.  “My prince doesn’t notice me.  I’m a clumsy mess, and nobody even wanted me around today.”

His heart ached for the girl.  He wished he had been able to do more.  He had even tried, but clearly not hard enough.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chat asked, seating himself across from her.  He stretched out his legs, framing her feet with his own.  She didn’t answer for a long moment, and he quickly added, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”  He swallowed awkwardly.  “I just wanted to… offer.”

She still didn’t say anything, leaning the side of her head against her knees, looking out between the railings at the night.  Chat watched her for a few minutes before gently tapping her foot with one of his.  Then, he tapped the other, turning his feet just a couple inches in, then out, side to side.  She turned to him, letting out a tiny, breath of a laugh.

“Silly kitty,” she said, and he smiled at her encouragingly in return—something, _anything_ to get her acting like herself again.  She sighed, shaking her head and a pained expression returning to her face.  “I just… I feel so _terrible_.”

Chat swallowed.  He opened his mouth, then paused.  He didn’t know how best to keep up with the charade, to imply that he had only _heard_ instead of _witnessed_.  “What they said to you wasn’t—”

But Marinette shook her head.  “It wasn’t even what anyone _said_ ,” she admitted.  “I’ve dealt with worse.  Chloe probably says worse on a regular basis.”  She gave him a wry smile before sighing, resting her chin back on her knees.  “I just… I feel like I let everyone down.”

“Marinette—”

“But I did,” she said sadly.  “I ruined everything we were working on because I am too clumsy to stay on my feet.  And when I tried to help, to fix things…”  She buried her face back in her knees.  “It wasn’t even that they thought that I was just going to do more harm than good, it’s that I _agreed_ with them.  I’m a klutz.  I would have just made everything worse.”

“No,” Chat quickly said, and Marinette picked up her head to look at him.  “That is not true at all.”  She blinked at him, and he took the moment to crawl forward, kneeling in front of her.  He took her hands in his.  “Marinette, you are one of the most helpful people I’ve ever met.  Every time I see you, you’re helping people.  You’ve helped me on numerous occasions—with Evillustrator and Puppeteer and Ballistic—and I’ve seen you help your classmates and your parents and _everyone_.”  He smiled.  “And you’re _good_ at helping people.  You just had a day of bad luck.  I must be rubbing off on you.”

She chuckled, despite herself.  “I’ve had bad luck since before I met you, _minou,_ ” she teased.

Chat felt himself beam at the nickname and at the light tone her words had taken on—perhaps he was doing some good, as well.  “One bad day doesn’t mean anything,” he reiterated.  “Believe me—I’ve learned that the hard way.  Being a superhero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he told her simply.  “Don’t let it get to you just because one day doesn’t go your way.  It doesn’t define who you are.”

He licked his lips before continuing.  “It might have just been a teasing nickname at first, when I got to be your knight in shining armor,” he told her, smiling slightly at the memory.  “But you are a princess to me, Marinette.  You’re kind and gracious, you’re generous.  You stand up for that’s right, you’ve even rescued this knight on a couple of occasions.  You’re someone who _should_ be admired and looked up to.  You’re someone that is precious to _me_ , someone that I treasure.”  He smiled at her more encouragingly.  “If you don’t want me to call you a princess, I won’t.  But that won’t change who you are to me.”

She looked at him, and for a moment he felt a small sense of panic rising when he realized her eyes were brimming with tears once more.  But then she gave him a tiny smile.  “Thank you, Chat,” she said.

"Any time," he responded.

"I suppose with that explanation I _have_ to accept the nickname," she added, her playful tone returning once more. 

At this, he grinned. It was also at that moment he seemed to remember that he was clasping her hands in his own. He quickly released them, feeling slightly awkward. Remembering himself, he settled beside her, sitting against the wall. As he did, she leaned over, letting her shoulder bump against his. When she did, he felt the blush rise on his cheeks, thankful that she wasn't looking at him anymore.

"So princess," he said, clearing his throat. "Tell me about this prince of yours." He hoped the topic would be something enough to bring the smile back to her face, all while feeding his curiosity. The girl had definitely taken a special place in his heart— _platonically_ , he reminded himself—and it made him curious as to who had a spot in her own.

"He isn't really mine," she said, but it was with a light rosy blush along her cheeks and a tiny smile on her lips.

"Details," he said with a shrug, and he felt her giggle beside him. 

"What is you want to know about him?" she asked.

He hesitated. _If he deserves you,_ was the question that first popped into his mind, but he thought that wouldn't be the right thing to say. “What is it that makes him so special?" he asked. "Super good-looking? Rich and famous?"

"He's.... _kind_ ," she said fondly. 

Simultaneously the answer seemed to take Chat by surprise but also not come as a shock at all. It wasn't the answer he was expecting, maybe, but when he realized that this was _Marinette_ , he couldn't bring himself to expect something different. This was probably the kindest girl he knew—she wasn't shallow like a few others in his class. Of course any guy that Marinette would fall for wouldn't be because of looks or status or wealth.

"He's kind and gentle and genuine," she continued. "He takes me by surprise sometimes. I didn't expect him to be as sweet as he is, but... He cares. Not just about himself or what others think of him, but about other people, genuinely. And I didn't expect that from someone like him."

"He should have stood up for you then," he said, and he instantly regretted the words. They hadn't meant to be said out loud. He only intended to think them, partially in regret of his own lack of doing anything to help. But Marinette didn't take offense, she just chuckled. 

"It's not like that," she said. "Like I said, he just... He doesn't always see me."

"Then he doesn't deserve you," Chat argued, again unable to keep the thought inside. 

"You don't know him," she told him simply. "He deserves better."

“Im- _paw_ -ssible.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Chat, are you trying to make my ego as big as yours?" she asked. "Everyone is flawed. Everyone has bad days, you said it yourself."

"Well, you deserve someone as close to perfect as you can get."

"Maybe he is."

Chat bit his tongue at the retort. He wasn't sure why, but something twisted in his stomach when she said it.

He supposed that part of him had a tiny fraction of hope that maybe Marinette liked him—that is, _Adrien_. The girl would probably say that that wish was just to feed his ego, and maybe a bit of it was. But he had hoped that Marinette could like someone like him, if only because of how amazing she was. He wished he could be more like her—to stand up to Chloe and others (probably his father, in his case) and fight for what's right, beyond just when he was in the suit. He wanted to do more. He wanted to be more like her. And somewhere in his mind, if she could like someone like him, that would almost seem close enough, like a step in the right direction. 

But the boy she described was nothing like him.

"We'll just have to see," he murmured at last.  He wondered how it was that the conversation that was supposed to cheer her up had made him feel a little worse.

Marinette hummed in response, and she leaned more heavily against him, causing his cheeks to heat up more.

 _Oh goodness,_ what was this girl _doing_ to him?

“I’m glad you weren’t akumatized,” he told her quietly, admitting it like a secret.

She shifted beside him and he glanced down, watching her fidget with the hem of her shirt.  “Me too,” she responded.

“I was worried,” he said.  “When I heard,” he quickly added, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to have been there at the time.  “I’m not sure I would have wanted to fight you,” he admitted.

“It wouldn’t have really been me, though,” she told him simply.  “It would have been the akuma.”

“But sometimes that’s easier to remember than others,” he responded with a sigh.  “I’ve fought friends before.”  He shook his head.  “It’s just a good thing it didn’t happen.”

“I would have kicked your butt anyway,” she said matter-of-factly.

He laughed at this.  “I don’t doubt that for a second, Princess.”

“I still don’t know how to make it up to everyone,” she said sadly.

He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to, that everyone would come around quickly because they loved her—but at the same time, he understood the feeling.  He considered it for several long moments.

Then, he straightened, smiling at his own sudden stroke of genius.  “Using your talents,” he told her simply.  She glanced up at him.  “Design something.”

Marinette sat up a little straighter in turn, shifting her weight off of him as her eyes widened at the idea.  “I could,” she agreed.  She grimaced.  “I hate that I didn’t think of that sooner.”  She got to her feet quickly, looking down at the hero.  “I’m sorry, I—I need to get to work on this right away—”

But Chat merely smiled as he stood.  “I understand,” he assured her.

“Thank you for the idea!” she said again, suddenly a bundle of restless energy as she leaned forward, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek.  “Thank you!”  She pulled away, disappearing down the trapdoor, the lights of her bedroom flickering on.

He stood frozen for a moment before shaking himself out of his shock.  He had work to do, as well.

* * *

Marinette was thoroughly exhausted.  When at last the dress was finished, she zipped it up into a garment bag and left for the school.  She had worked non-stop since her conversation with Chat Noir, ignoring a few concerned texts and phone calls from Alya and only pausing for some coffee to keep her awake when she wasn’t running on pure adrenaline.  And while she usually hated working under such pressure with so little time, she couldn’t help but admit it had prompted amazing results.

She stepped through the doors of the school, and was in awe when she entered the gymnasium.  The room was even better than it had been before everything had been destroyed.  She glanced around, marveling at the display.  Twinkling lights were hung with the decor, battery-operated candles at each table for added ambiance. Fabric was draped in lieu of the crepe paper streamers, and overall the atmosphere had drastically changed, even from what it had been before. Marinette was speechless.

"There you are, girl!"  Marinette turned to see Alya coming through the doors.  "But now I understand why you weren't answering your phone if you did all of this.”

Marinette frowned. "I didn't... I mean, I would have, but—" She broke off, holding up the garment bag. "I made something else to auction off."  She tilted her head. "You guys didn't do this?" she asked. 

Alya shook her head. "Most of us left kind of early yesterday," she admitted sheepishly.

"Then who pulled this off?" Marinette wondered.

"Maybe _he_ did," Alya suggested, nodding over Marinette's shoulder. The girl turned around and felt her jaw drop at the sight of Chat Noir, seated at one of the round tables for the guests. He saluted the two girls once they noticed his presence, getting to his feet. 

"Chat Noir?" she asked in disbelief.

The hero bowed. "Good day, Princess."

Marinette felt Alya elbow her at the nickname and she blushed. She knew she'd have to tell her about it later. "Did you do all of this?”

"With a little help," he admitted.

“I—thank you," Marinette said breathlessly. She was in shock at his kindness. "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to," he assured her. "On one condition, of course."

Marinette felt a bit of hesitation and worry at the words—what could he possibly ask for?

"Anything," Alya answered for her, and he flashed the other girl a grin.

"You two take the credit," he said simply. "I don't want any of it."

Marinette and Alya shared a look.

"We couldn’t—"

"You put in so much work—"

But Chat shook his head, closing the distance between them all. "The most satisfying acts of heroism are often the ones that only a few know about, and they're the ones who really appreciate it." He offered a smile. "I don't need or want the credit for this. I would rather it go to the girl who could use it."

Marinette was again rendered speechless. She wanted to say something that would give Chat even an inkling of how appreciative she felt, but it all fell short. She itched to wrap her arms around him in a hug, but as it was, she knew she had a long conversation with Alya coming. Instead, she smiled at him. "Thank you," she breathed.

"Before you go," Alya said suddenly. She held up her phone. "Can we get a picture? Just thought maybe it could get even more attention for the event if we could say you showed up to offer support."

Chat laughed at this. "Anything for the Ladyblog," he agreed. He pulled the two girls in, slinging his arms around their shoulders. Alya looked thrilled, grinning broadly and giving a thumbs-up at the camera with one hand, holding her phone to capture the picture in her other. Meanwhile, Marinette couldn't help but feel a little abashed, her cheeks pinkening when she noticed that Chat was most _definitely_ leaning a few centimeters closer to her.

"Thank you!" Alya said excitedly, already tapping eagerly on her phone to undoubtedly post the photo.

"Any time," he responded. He swept low in a bow once more before taking his leave. 

Once he was gone, Marinette turned to her best friend.

"I'm officially in love with Chat Noir," Alya said. She then wrapped her arm around Marinette forcing her to look at the photograph. Again Marinette felt her cheeks warm up, especially upon actually seeing the picture.

"Should I warn Nino?" Marinette teased.

Alya rolled her eyes. "Come on, _Princess_ ," she retorted. "Pretty sure the boy has eyes for you."

Marinette spluttered at this. “I—he—he's a friend!" she stammered, flustered.

"And _when_ did you become friends with half of Paris's crime-fighting duo?" Alya asked lightly. "Girl, you have explaining to do, and you know it!"

* * *

To say that the auction ended up a success would have been a huge understatement. As it turned out, many of her friends who had left early the day before ended up trying to fix things in their own way—and when the time for the auction came, there had been new artworks and baked goods and jewelry and a dozen other creations by Marinette's classmates.  They had all agreed—after the initial anger had faded, they felt terrible when they knew that what had happened was an accident.

The room was packed. It seemed that Chat Noir's endorsement had tipped the scale, bringing in just enough additional interest that there was only standing room remaining once things started.

In the end, Marinette’s dress—a beautiful midnight-blue gown, sheer above the neckline and on the sleeves, all with small beaded details that made it shine like the night sky—had brought in the most money.  It was all enough to turn what Marinette had deemed a disaster into quite possibly the most amazing night ever.

The best part was when the auction itself had ended and her classmates were counting money and setting up the bidders with their winnings.

“Marinette!”

The girl turned to see Adrien pushing through the crowd to her.  She tilted her head, feeling a definite bit of confusion.  “A-Adrien?  What is it?”

“My father couldn’t make it tonight,” he quickly explained, taking her arm and pulling her out of the packed gymnasium to outside.  In his other hand he was clutching his phone.  “But I wanted him to see the dress you made, so I sent him photos, and—”  He broke off, turning to the girl now that they were in the courtyard.  He shrugged, as though unsure what else to say, and instead held up his phone, revealing that he was on a video chat.

Marinette’s eyes widened as she was (sort of) face-to-face with Gabriel Agreste.  She took the phone from the boy.  “M-Monsieur Agreste!” she stammered.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” the designer greeted in turn.  “My son sent me the pictures of the gown you made.  And you designed it yourself?”

“ _O-o-oui!_ ” she stuttered nervously.

“It was very well-done,” he allowed.  “There were definite flaws, but under the time restraints and for someone your age, I am definitely impressed.  My son tells me you won the competition I judged a few years ago at your school.  You talent has seemed to only develop since then.”

“Thank you, Monsier!”

“I have no doubt I’ll see more from you, soon.”  And with the smallest hint at a smile, the man ended the call.

Marinette stared at the phone in disbelief before looking back up at Adrien, who was grinning broadly.

“Thank you, Adrien!” the girl cried, flinging her arms around him.  He laughed, and he held her closely for a moment.  It was over quickly, however, when the girl swiftly pulled away, handing him his phone and blushing furiously.

“Sorry,” she said quickly.  Adrien wasn’t sure how to appease her.  How _exactly_ did you tell someone that it was _completely_ fine if they hugged you, and _really_ they ought to do it more often?  “Just—excited.”  She took a deep breath.  “Thank you, Adrien.  I—I should go tell Alya—”

“Of course,” he said easily, watching as she ran off back into the building.  After she went, Adrien sighed, folding his arms across his chest.

Seeing that they were alone, Plagg poked his head out of his pocket.

“You know,” the kwami said. “You _could have_ told her that you did the decorations as Adrien instead of as Chat Noir.”

The boy shrugged.  “It was… different, doing it as Chat,” he said uneasily.  Plagg looked at him questioningly.  “As Adrien, she probably would have just thought that I was doing it for the class.  But I wasn’t—I was doing it for _her_.”

Plagg hummed in a teasing manner.  “As a _friend_?” he asked.

Adrien frowned.  “Of course as a friend,” he said.  “What else would I be doing it as?”

Plagg laughed at this before burrowing back into his jacket pocket.  “Oh, kid, just wait ’til you figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art, by me: http://imatrisarahtops.tumblr.com/post/150337295603/marinette-hummed-in-response-and-she-leaned-more


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fandom is my favorite. I seriously love you guys. Thank you for all of the love!
> 
> For this chapter: “Overboard” by Ingrid Michaelson & "Like I Can” by Sam Smith. Yep, here it is. Let them finally figure it out!
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> _There may be lovers who hold out their hands,_  
>  _But they’ll never love you like I can, can, can._  
>  ("Like I Can" by Sam Smith)

The night air as Chat bounded through the city, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, was rather cold; winter was undoubtedly upon them.  But he had no plans to stay inside.  Now that the school’s auction was over, he wanted nothing more than to see the girl he’d left not even an hour before.  Plagg, of course, had pointed this out.  However, Adrien had noticed that the kwami was becoming less annoyed with the late-night visits and more… _amused_?

As he approached, he was happy to see Marinette standing out on her balcony, leaning over the railing.  He landed himself right beside her, perching himself on the rail.

“Well, good evening, _Purr_ -incess,” he said smoothly, smiling down at her.  As it was, it looked like she was ready to burst from excitement.  Her cheeks and nose were red, and he felt a little guilty at the thought that she had waited in the cold for him for so long.  “A good night?” he asked.

“Amazing!” she told him excitedly, bouncing a little on her feet as she did.  He couldn’t suppress the way his grin widened at this.  “You were so right, _minou_ ,” she said.  “The dress was the perfect thing to do—and it turned out so amazing!  And—”  She looked at him, her blue eyes wide.  “—and Adrien Agreste—he’s in my class—he even sent pictures to his _dad_!”  She put a hand to her face.  “He liked it!  I mean, he pointed out that was room to work, but _of course there was_ , it was so rushed.  But he said that I was _impressive_!”

Chat felt the pride swelling in his chest as he swung his legs down in front of him, letting them dangle just above the surface of her balcony.  “That sounds _claw_ -some,” he said.

“It was!” she went on.  “And…”  She gave him a more sobered smile then.  “None of it would have happened without you, Chat.”

For a moment, the boy blinked in surprise.  He let his feet touch the ground, straightening himself up and resting his hands on her shoulders.  “You deserve all the praise, Princess.”

She shook her head.  “You did so much,” she told him.  “You helped me figure out what I could do to help, and you went even further and helped fix all of the ruined decorations.  You… you saved the day.  It just wasn’t from an akuma.”

He gaped at her for a moment, wondering what he could say, to assure her that he was only too happy to do it, just for the smile on her face, when he felt the small impact as she collided with him.  He stumbled back slightly as she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

After just a moment’s hesitation, he relaxed, pulling her in even closer to him.  He rested his cheek in her hair, letting his fingers press lightly into her back.  He closed his eyes, smiling as he could feel the warmth radiate from her body and just reveling in the sensation—of feeling appreciated and content and _loved_.

“You’re welcome, Marinette.”

When Marinette pulled away just the slightest amount, he begrudgingly let her.  But she didn’t part from him, only taking a half-step back so she could look up at the sky in wonder.  He mirrored the action.

“It’s snowing!” she murmured, a small giggle accompanying the words.

“First of the season,” he remarked before looking back down to her.  He wanted to bottle up the moment and keep it forever.  He didn’t want to forget a single part of it—from the way that Marinette’s eyes were lit up in the twilight and city lights and the way that she smelled like honey and flowers, to the way that her laugh twinkled in the night and the way that the gently falling snowflakes were dusting her dark hair.  He couldn’t explain why the moment felt so monumental, but it _was_ , and he didn’t want a single second of it to be lost.

“It’s beautiful,” she marveled, quietly.

He couldn’t help but agree, even if he wasn’t watching the snow fall anymore, still trying to collect every attribute of the girl he was holding.  “It really is.”

* * *

The next week, the weather only continued to grow colder.  The snow started to stick, just dusting the ground in white.  Still early in the season, the students were still excited by the cold weather instead of discouraged by it.  However, this also meant they were easily distracted whenever another flurry started.

At this, several of the teachers were growing incredibly frustrated, tired of constantly snapping at the students in a reminder of where their attention _should_ be.  Between that and a prank pulled by a few of the students, involving dropping a bucket of snow atop of the chemistry lab assistant, it was really not much of a surprise that the young lady was akumatized.

Ladybug and Chat Noir had quickly established that the akuma was most-likely in Mad Scientist’s lab goggles, but obtaining them was not proving to be an easy feat.  Luckily for Ladybug, Chat Noir seemed to have a much better understanding of science, and was able to counter her attacks with far more ease than she was; where as she was still dodging and blocking, he understood each element and what could truly stop each power, adding in a science joke with each one.

It was after some time that Chat told Ladybug he had an idea, asking her to trust him and distract the akuma for a moment while he got what he needed ready.  She was taken aback at first, but did as he asked.  It was clear to her that this was a villain that he would be able to best far more easily than she could.

She used her Lucky Charm—a powerful set of magnets—to capture Mad Scientist’s attention, primarily by annoying her with the objects.  In less than a minute, just as the akuma managed to get the magnets away from Ladybug, Chat pulled through.  He poured one bucket into another (water and liquid nitrogen, he explained to her later) and it was like a quiet explosion, with the vapor quickly emanating through the air just in front of Mad Scientist.

The akuma tried to shield herself from it, dropping the magnets and throwing her hands up, coughing and spluttering as she inhaled the fumes.  Chat swept in, snatching the goggles off of her head and tossed them to Ladybug.  She stomped on them, watching as the black butterfly fluttered out.

A few minutes later, and akuma was cleansed, and everything was restored back to normalcy.

Afterwards, even as she had detransformed back into Marinette, the girl couldn’t help but smile to herself.  She’d always been adamant that Chat Noir was necessary to every battle.  But this time, she knew that he was the key—he was, ultimately, the sole reason that they had been able to defeat Mad Scientist.  She didn’t know what it was about it that made her so happy—if she was just proud of his brilliant solution, or if she was just really considering how lucky she was to have such a partner.  Either way, she couldn’t suppress the smile.

So as Marinette gently nudged her pencil across the paper, sitting with her friends in the library, she shouldn’t have been surprised at her unintentional subject.  At first she had been attempting a new design, something for the winter, but the inspiration just wasn’t coming to her.  Instead, she had fallen into the absent-minded doodling.  Her cheek rested in her hand as she continued to draw without real purpose, but still unable to focus on any actual _work_ she should be doing with her classmates.

Alya seemed to take notice of this.  She looked over at her best friend’s sketch and broke into a grin.  “Wow, girl,” she said, and Marinette started slightly, turning to her.  “That’s a really great drawing of Chat Noir.”

It was at that moment that Marinette looked back to her paper and seemed to notice what she was drawing.  “Oh…” she muttered.  She hadn’t really realized that she had, in fact, been drawing the superhero on the paper in front of her; but, considering where her thoughts had been so focused, she couldn’t say it was completely unexpected.  “I was just…”

She blushed slightly as Alya took the paper from her.  She made a grab for it, but Alya pushed her back onto her chair.  Her best friend was looking at the paper, and when she spoke again, her voice was somewhere between teasing and genuinely impressed as she looked at Marinette over the rim of her glasses.  “You really have an eye for detail, you know.”  Alya then glanced to the boy who was sitting beside her, leaning away from Marinette and closer to him.  “Check this out, Nino.”

The boy looked up and grinned, giving Marinette a thumbs up as he leaned forward, his elbows on the table.  “Fantastic as always, Mari,” he said nodding at her.

“Can I see?” Adrien asked curiously, and Alya passed the paper over to him.  Marinette’s cheeks were very red by now, and she looked like she wanted to melt into the floor as she leaned over the back of her chair, head falling back.  But the boy was amazed—and he couldn’t help but feel flattered at knowing _he_ was the subject of Marinette’s mindless doodling.  “This is _awesome_ ,” he agreed, giving her a very encouraging smile as she sat straight up again.

“Really?”

But then the paper was snatched from Adrien’s hand, and the four looked up at the intruder.  “Ugh, _Chat Noir_?” Chloe’s voice was filled with disgust as she let Sabrina see before she dropped the paper back to the library table.  The girl at her shoulder laughed at the sketch disdainfully.  “Of _course_ a loser like Marinette would like the lame _sidekick_.”

Adrien glared at Chloe, clenching his jaw.  He often wondered what the girl would say if she ever found out that Chat Noir and ‘her Adrikins’ were one in the same, the irony not lost on him that she definitely preferred one to the other.  He opened his mouth, ready to retort that _Chat Noir_ _was not lame, thank you very much—_

“Nobody asked you, Chloe!”

The blonde girl’s attention snapped over to Marinette with a look of surprise—then, she laughed, as though Marinette didn’t understand who she was talking to.  “ _Excusez-moi?_ ” she asked, placing a hand to her chest and leaning forward, her other hand on her hip.

“Nobody wants your opinion,” Marinette repeated, gripping her pencil tightly before slamming it to the table.  “Especially because you are _wrong_.”

Chloe placed both hands on the table, looking down at Marinette menacingly before straightening up.  “You’re standing up for the useless sidekick?” she scoffed, one eyebrow raised as she turned slightly, folding her arms over her chest.  “How am I _not_ surprised?”

“Chat Noir is _not_ Ladybug’s sidekick,” Marinette said, getting to her feet and pointing her pencil at Chloe.  “They’re _partners_.  Without him, Ladybug wouldn’t make it through a single akuma fight.  If you read or watched the coverage of Mad Scientist, then you know that was all Chat Noir—he came up with the way to stop her, and Ladybug had nothing to do with it.”

Chloe rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, he’s so useful, especially when he gets turned against Ladybug—”

“Because he sacrifices himself for her!” Marinette countered, throwing her hand up.  “He is constantly acting as sword and shield for Ladybug.  Any time that he’s pitted against her, it’s because he took some blow that was aimed for her.  People say that Ladybug is an amazing hero, but they don’t give Chat Noir even a fraction of the credit that he deserves.  He is always doing so much for Ladybug and _everyone_ , and he doesn’t even care if he doesn’t get the same recognition as her.  And then there’s people who show their appreciation by saying that he isn’t even a real hero—how is that fair?

“Chat Noir _is_ _a_ _hero_.  He is not just a sidekick.  I would like to see anyone who says otherwise to do something even _half_ as courageous or selfless as he does on a regular basis.  And he never stops.  Even without any thanks or praise, he is still there, fighting just as hard each day, if not _harder_.  He deserves _way_ better than what we give him, and I just hope that he knows that _some_ of us really do appreciate all that he does.”

“Whatever,” Chloe huffed, turning on her heel and stomping out of the library.  Feeling satisfied, Marinette returned to her seat.  She glanced over at Alya and, noticing that the girl had her phone out, Marinette groaned.

“Please don’t tell me you filmed that,” she said with a sigh, hiding her face in her hands.

“Girl, you _bet_ I filmed that!” Alya said with a grin.  “You were totally right, _and_ you put Chloe in her place.  That is going on the Ladyblog!”

“Man, that was killer,” Nino chimed in, and the girl peeked out between her fingers at him.  “You would have converted me into a fan if I wasn’t already—I never knew you were this passionate about Chat Noir.”  He grinned, looking over at Adrien.  “I don’t think Adrien’s ever seen this side of you.”

Sure enough, the blonde boy was gaping at Marinette in awe.  “Sorry,” he said quickly, as though remembering himself and offering a sheepish smile.  “Just—that was _awesome_.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling weakly at them.

“Then do I have your permission to post the video?” Alya asked, and Marinette raised an eyebrow at her.  “I mean, you know I’m going to either way.  But it’s probably better for our friendship in the long run if you agree first.”

Marinette chuckled at this.  “Fine,” she sighed.  “I guess it could probably help some people get the idea, right?”

“Exactly!” Alya said, and Nino nodded in agreement.

“Like I said, you’ve got me convinced,” Nino said.

Alya sighed.  “It’s time for class,” she said, setting her phone aside and starting to gather up her things.

“You’ll have to finish the upload later,” Adrien pointed out, getting his own notes and books to put into his bag.  As his friends similarly began to pack up, he quickly glanced at Marinette.  The girl hadn’t moved to take her drawing back from where Chloe had dropped it on top of his things.  Without a second thought, he discreetly tucked it into his notebook.  If she said anything later, he could always feign ignorance as to how it got there.  In the meantime, he definitely wanted to hold onto it.

* * *

That evening, when he met with Ladybug on patrol, it was still all he could think about.  Luckily, Alya had posted the video on the Ladyblog after school as she had said, so Adrien, as Chat Noir, was able to play it off as though he’d watched the event online.  It seemed as though Ladybug had seen the video, too, because as they made their way across Paris’s rooftops, she agreed that she knew what he was referring to.

“It was _awesome_ , My Lady!” he told her excitedly, a little breathless as they ran.  “It was…”

Admittedly, she was happy to hear how good it had made him feel.  She felt proud, and slightly reassured that she had done the right thing.  Knowing that it was something that made a difference enough to him that he’d mention it to Ladybug?  She definitely felt content in agreeing to let Alya post the video.  “It was what, _Chaton_?” she pressed on.

“It was nice,” he said, looking at her with a smile.  “I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard anyone stand up for me like that—except you, of course.”  She felt a small pang at his words, but tried to brush it aside— _that was the exact reason it needed to be said_ , she told herself.  “It was—it was… just amazing.  _She’s_ amazing.”  He sighed, but it was with a content smile on his face.

It all made something funny flutter inside of her stomach.  She again tried to push the feeling away as they continued to move.  “Careful, _Chaton_ ,” she quipped, “or I’ll think you’re trying to make me jealous.”

He chuckled at her words and she laughed along with him.  But a moment later, she suddenly realized that her partner wasn’t beside her.  She turned to see Chat standing stock-still at the other edge of the building.  Frowning, she went back over to him.

He seemed to be frozen.  He was clutching his baton in his hands with an almost nervousness, staring off with an unreadable expression, blinking as his mind reeled.

“Chat?” she asked curiously.  She glanced to the direction where he was looking, worried for a moment that perhaps he’d seen something—Perhaps another akuma? But so soon after the last, was that possible?—but quickly realized that his eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular.  She looked to him with concern, reaching out to him hesitantly.  “Chat, what’s wrong?”

“I like Marinette.”  He whispered the words at first then he looked back to his partner, blinking rapidly and repeating it louder with realization.  “Ladybug, I _like_ Marinette.”

Ladybug seemed equally in shock at the boy’s sudden confession, her hand freezing midair.  “You mean—”

“Yeah,” he agreed without waiting for explanation.

Ladybug’s heart pounded.  She knew that she was supposed to be playing her part right now, being the supportive friend and saying the right things and asking the right questions.  However, that seemed impossibly hard to do, considering that the boy in front of her just confessed that he had feelings for her, without actually knowing it was her. She was quickly trying to take in the information and process it, but she knew that now wasn't the time.

"What are you going to do?" she asked. It was the only question she could think of because she knew it would buy her more time to try to understand what Chat had just said.

And now the boy in front of her looked so uncertain. “I… I should tell her, shouldn't I?" he asked her warily, eyes wide and questioning. "I mean... I don't know. I didn't expect this."

 _Neither did I,_ her mind whispered before she shook the thought away.

What was she supposed to say?  How did she offer him advice for herself?  Her heart was still pounding, her mind still racing with a thousand different thoughts and feelings and questions—

"You should tell her." 

Chat looked as surprised at her advice as she felt. She wasn't sure what part of her came to the conclusion that it was the proper thing to do, but she felt satisfied with the words once she uttered them—maybe this would be one of those cases where Ladybug didn’t know what to do, but as Marinette she’d have an idea…

Chat still didn't look convinced. "She likes someone else," he said with uncertainty, glancing to the ground in a way that made the girl feel guilty.

"Maybe she did at first," she agreed softly. "But so did you."

Chat blushed a little at her words, and she relaxed to know that she’d said the right thing.  He sighed, looking out across the brightly-lit city in the night sky.  "She's special."

“Then tell her that."

He nodded with a sudden determination, looking back to Ladybug with a smile. "I will."

Ladybug smiled encouragingly at her partner. "I think it's probably time we stop for the night," she said, taking a step forward and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Don't you?"

"Of course," he responded distractedly. Again he seemed lost in thought, only this time Ladybug could guess where his mind was.  Still, he seemed to remember himself, sweeping low into a bow before extending his baton to depart. "Good night, milady,” he called as he disappeared.

"Good night, _Chaton_ ,” she murmured after him.

Though it only took her a few minutes to soar across Paris, yo-yo in hand, it seemed to take Ladybug an eternity to return to her room, her mind impossibly loud as she did so.  She released her transformation at last, wordlessly giving Tikki a plate of cookies before laying on her settee. The kwami ate, eying the girl who was nibbling on her lip thoughtfully. 

"He really likes you, Marinette," Tikki said at last, leaving the half-eaten treat and floating over to the girl.

"I know," she said with a soft smile.

"Is it that you don't feel the same?"

Marinette considered the question with a strange sensation in her stomach. No—that couldn't be it at all because, while she had no idea how it had happened, she was _quite_ certain that she did feel the same way about Chat Noir.

She tried to pinpoint the moment when she fell for him. With her crush on Adrien, finding that _specific_ moment had been so easy. But with Chat... Was it when he had comforted her? When he surprised her with the decorations? When he had come to see her after? Was it some time before? Some time later? Maybe with Chat there wasn't a _singular_ moment—maybe it was just _everything_ , the culmination of so many tiny moments that had so quickly become the routine that she loved.

"Or," the kwami pressed on, "is it that you _do_ feel the same way?"

Marinette frowned as she looked at her companion. "It got so complicated so fast, Tikki," she sighed. 

"So tell him the truth," Tikki suggested. 

Marinette let out a small huff of a laugh. “Yeah—‘I like you too, Chat. By the way, I've also been turning you down as Ladybug for as long as we've known each other, but now that you're interested in me as Marinette, I'm sure that's fine!’"

"Well, don't say it like that."

"It's just... What if things don't work out with us?" she asked. "That would make fighting akumas terrible and awkward… And there's still a good chance that finding out _I'm_ Ladybug would just disappoint him."  She shook her head.  It made her head and her heart ache a little, but she couldn’t think of a different solution—not for the time being.  "For now, I think it's just better if Marinette and Ladybug stay separate."

"But they're _not_ separate," the kwami argued. “And this just proves he cares about both sides of you!"

Marinette bit her lip, thinking of the kwami’s words before shaking her head.  ”Not yet," she repeated, though it was with more hesitation this time.  She bowed her head. "I... I'm still not ready for him to know, yet, anyway," she said, a sort of finality in the confession.

Tikki went up to her cheek, hugging and nuzzling her. "He won't be let down by you," she assured the girl. "But I understand you want to wait until you're ready. I'll be here when you are."

"Thanks, Tikki," she said, offering a small smile and holding her kwami close.  The fact that they both hoped that moment would come sooner rather than later didn’t need to be said out loud.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get right to it, shall we? Songs for this chapter: “Kiss Me Like Nobody’s Watching” by Simple Plan & "Dirty Little Secret” by All-American Rejects.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> _So kiss me like nobody’s watching._  
>  _Yeah, people are talking._  
>  _It doesn’t matter what they say._  
>  _Just kiss me in the middle of the streets_  
>  _To let the whole world see_  
>  _That there’s nobody else for me._  
>  (“Kiss Me Like Nobody’s Watching” by Simple Plan)

Chat’s heart pounded as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop. His mind hadn't been able to rest since his meeting with Ladybug. At first, he had returned home and tried to sleep, but instead his heart and brain had simultaneously thrummed ' _Marinette, Marinette, Marinette_ ' like a mantra in perfect time with his pulse. It was a rhythm that he didn't want to stop, and at last he gave in and had (with protests from Plagg) transformed once again.

He landed on top of the bakery and was met with the girl in question. She was seated beneath her tarp and ornamental lights, drinking hot chocolate in her chair. It almost felt like she was waiting for him, though it was a patrol night, and he didn't usually stop by on those. Despite the late hour—later than any of their meetings before—she didn't seem very surprised at his appearance. Instead, she offered him a shy smile and—if he wasn't mistaken—a slight rosy blush dusted across her freckles. 

"It's late, _mon minou_ ," she told him, but it wasn't upset, nor was it said with the subtle suggestion of them going to sleep; it was merely an observation. 

"My a- _paw_ -logies, Princess," he responded automatically.

She closed her eyes, lips quirking up into a smile. "I couldn't sleep," she admitted, taking a sip from her mug. Her legs were folded up beneath her, and she clutched the cup with both hands.

"I was having the same problem."

"What's your excuse?" she asked him, looking at him from beneath her eyelashes, the ceramic rim of the mug still resting just below her lips.

He opened his mouth to respond, but all of the words seemed to evaporate. He had been so mentally prepared to tell her how he felt, but suddenly with the girl sitting before him, it all disappeared.

His answer to her question was one that was suddenly impossible for him to say. _She_ was the reason for his insomnia that night. It had all happened so quickly. She had become his friend, and then like a flipped switch, it was more— _so_ much more. How had that even happened? When had it happened?  He was fairly certain even his kwami had noticed the change before he had.

A corner of her lips quirked upwards. "Cat got your tongue?" she teased.

 _Dear god_ she was going to be the death of him.

She unfurled her legs, walking over to deposit her mug on the spool table. She turned back to him, worrying her lip between her teeth. "Are you okay?" she asked then, a little timidly. 

He cursed himself for getting lost in his head for so long. "More than fine," he quickly told her.  "Sorry."  He smiled.  "Just distracted."

The smile returned to her lips. "I can tell," she said playfully. "What's on your mind, _minou_?"

"You."

At the word, the blush on her cheeks darkened. "Oh?" she asked. "Really?"

He nodded once. "My princess," he said softly, moving closer to her. She pressed herself back against the railing, as though to appear more casual, but the way her fingers fidgeted he could tell she was as nervous as he was.

Somehow, this relieved him.

"Marinette," he said with a sort of reverence.  He brought a gloved hand to her cheek, and she leaned into the touch without hesitation. He inched closer, feeling the warmth from her entire body, her breath ghosting against his cheeks. "I know that you deserve a prince, but would you ever consider settling for a knight?"

"Oh _Chaton_ ," she sighed, closing her eyes for a second before opening them again, piercing him with her gaze.  She rested her hand atop his, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand. "You would never be ' _settling_ '."

His heart stammering, he leaned closer. His lips were a hair's breadth away from hers, eyes lidded heavily as he looked down at her with question. _'Is this okay?_ ' the gesture asked, and he prayed to every being in existence that the answer was _yes_. 

She closed the gap in affirmation, letting their lips brush against each other in a prelude before he pressed his mouth more firmly against hers. They separated for a millisecond before they reached back to each other. He let his hands fall to her waist, pulling her off the railing and into him. And in reply she parted her lips against his to urge him further. One of her hands snaked around his neck, threading fingers through the hair at his nape while the other hand slid it's way from his ribs to his chest. Underneath her fingertips his heart beat erratically for her.

He finally pulled away, looking down at her with a blissful smile. She returned it before her expression fell. 

"What about Ladybug?" she asked, her voice tiny, somber and a little bit breathless. 

But Chat simply shook his head. "What I always imagined with Ladybug was... just fantasy," he told her. He licked his lips, which now tasted of chocolate and cinnamon from her own. "But you're _real_. And with you… _I'm_ real."

She stared at him for a moment before surging forward once more and he met her lips eagerly.

"We should probably... talk about this," he said after a moment, pulling away just a millimeter and taking a deep breath. 

Marinette pressed another kiss to his lips. "I have to admit I quite prefer the _not-_ talking we're doing right now," she said with a smirk.

Chat chuckled against her, and she could feel the laugh in his chest, underneath where her hand was still pressed. "Not that I'm complaining," he mumbled, letting his lips brush against her cheek as he spoke, "but..."

She sighed. "I know," she said. She wrapped her arms around his middle and bowed her head slightly. As she did, Chat rested his chin atop her hair. He let his hands slowly move up and down her spine.

"I really like you," he murmured, and he lowered his face once more, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I mean that, Marinette."

She felt her cheeks warm, unable to suppress the smile. "I like you, too," she said. "I was hoping that was obvious." She looked up at him with a smile.

He returned it easily.  "What do you want from this?" he asked, his tone serious but a little hesitant. "For us?"

She looked down again, eyes tracing over the seams in his suit instead of looking him in the eye. "Is there an ' _us_ '?" she inquired with uncertainty.

"If you want there to be," he told her.

She paused. Was that what she wanted? To be an ' _us_ ' with Chat Noir? Something inside of her chest fluttered at the idea. Not too long ago she had imagined something so completely different, but now—

" _Yes_ ," she breathed out.

She wondered if Tikki had predicted this from the start, when she had urged her to give Chat a chance. She wondered if the kwami knew that deep down there was an inkling, just a hint of something that could blossom into so much more if given the chance outside of what she was used to...

"Good," Chat muttered. She looked up at him. "That's what I want as well."

She bit her lip. "How will this work, though?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't exactly go and text Alya that I just kissed Chat Noir on my balcony."

He smirked at this. "Well, Princess, you _could_ —"

She glared at him, though it held no malice. "Then I'm sure you don't care that she would be demanding interviews and probably start asking about your identity—"

"Fair enough," he sighed, nodding.

"Do we... just keep it a secret?" she asked with a frown. "Lie?"  _It wasn't as though she wasn't already doing that left and right anyway_ , she reminded herself a little bitterly. 

He considered this. "To be fair," he said after a few moments, "it's our business. The world doesn't have to know."

"I'm not saying _the_ _world_..."

"I know," he responded. "But we don't owe explanations to anyone. It only involves us, so we don't need to tell anyone if we don’t want to."

Something about the reasoning appeased her. It really was a matter that just concerned them. They didn't owe anyone an explanation, they weren't obligated to share if they didn’t choose to. She nodded.

"I don't..." She bit her lip, thinking of the best way to say what was on her mind. "I don't like the idea of sharing you, though."

“None of that,” he assured her.

“Good.”

"I thought I was ‘ _just a stray_ '," Chat teased.

“You know you haven’t been for a while, _mon minou_ ,” she countered.

A grin spread on Chat’s face, eyes twinkling mischievously.  “I had a _feline_ …”

“I swear, I will kiss that look right off of your face,” Marinette threatened.

“Is that a promise, Princess?” he quipped.

She narrowed her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirked up.  If she leaned up and covered his mouth with hers just to get him to stop talking, it was really because she didn’t have another option.

* * *

When Chat landed back inside of his bedroom, he detransformed and dropped to his bed with a giddy grin on his face.  It felt surreal.  _He was dating Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and had just kissed her—and been kissed by her—multiple times—on her balcony…_

He sighed contentedly.  Nothing could ruin this moment.

“This is a _bad idea_ , kid.”

Except that.  He sat up, looking at his kwami with a frown.  He didn’t have to ask him what he meant, but that didn’t mean that he really understood.  “Why do you say that?” he asked instead.

Plagg sighed, folding his arms over his chest and looking at Adrien critically.  “Because she doesn’t know who you are under the mask,” he said plainly.

Adrien shrugged.  “Technically she does,” he said, though he didn’t meet his kwami’s eyes.

Plagg got closer to him instead, in an attempt to grab his attention, his green eyes narrowing as he did.  “That makes it _worse_ , doesn’t it?” he argued.  “She knows both sides of you.”  He sighed agitatedly.  “I thought when you decided you were going to tell her how you felt, you were going to do it as Adrien!”

“But she doesn’t _like_ Adrien,” the boy countered.  “She _likes_ Chat Noir.”

“Then _make_ her like Adrien!”

“You know the whole reason I wanted to start seeing her was because she can barely speak to me as Adrien!” he said, voice raising in annoyance.  “And you knew what this was going to turn into from beginning, with all of your jokes about—”

“You want me to say ‘I told you so’?” Plagg said.  “Fine— _I told you so_!  And I’m telling you now that this is going to end _badly_ , so if you want I can and will say it again when it does—”

“It won’t!” Adrien snapped.  “I’ll tell her, when we’re both ready.”  He growled in frustration.  “Why can’t you be _happy for me_ —”

“Why would I be happy that you’re risking everything for some girl?” Plagg countered.  “You’re putting yourself in danger, you’re putting _her_ in danger…”

“So is that how this works?” Adrien asked, glaring at the small creature.  “Dating is just off-limits, then, because it only leads to danger? I don’t get to be _happy_?”

Plagg’s whiskers drooped at this.  “Come on,” he said, more softly.  “I didn’t say that, kid.”

Adrien closed his eyes for a moment.  “I know,” he murmured.  “Sorry, Plagg.”

The kwami approached slowly, frowning as he did.  “I want you happy—you know that,” he said uneasily.  “It’s just… it never works out like this.”

Adrien considered Plagg for a few moments, worrying his lip as he did so.  There it was—a hint of past experience, and past failures.  He knew already what he was risking with this—it was one of the reasons that he had agreed to the suggestion of keeping it a secret.  Even before he realized the full extent of his feelings, Adrien had worried what would happen if Papillon discovered what Marinette meant to him.  A few times, he’d let his mind wander to terrible possibilities.  She could be akumatized, purely because of their association.  She could be kidnapped.  She could be harmed.  Her family could get involved…

He shook his head.  He didn’t want to think about it.  Marinette was strong and capable and he knew she could surely handle herself, but the very idea of what could possibly go wrong scared him.  He knew she would fight with everything she had, but that didn’t help appease him.

But now Plagg had addressed something completely new.  Adrien had been so consumed by the excitement and affection that he never thought twice about telling her as Chat Noir.  And there was no problem with that, not really.  But when he stopped and _truly_ thought about it…

They never talked about who he was outside the mask.  From the moment that he first stopped by, Marinette had accepted him purely as the boy in the leather catsuit.  She had never even _hinted_ at wanting to know who he was, and he took that for granted.  She accepted his identity had to remain a secret.

And then everything changed.  Like the flip of a switch, it had become something so much _more_.  Now, they weren’t simply friends chatting on her balcony.  They’d confessed that at least they cared enough about each other that they wanted more—not just a few stolen moments and secret kisses, but something real.  And as Plagg pointed out, that could never last when one of them was keeping such a monumental secret.

It would have been easier if they didn’t know each other outside.  But instead, they were classmates.  She knew him as Adrien, and she had for a few years.  She’d sat behind him in class, and they’d even seen each other outside of school several times over the years.  So it wouldn’t just be revealing his other side, some stranger she’d never met, but she would have to mentally mesh the two people she knew into one being.

And suddenly the guilt was settling in his stomach.  He’d done this all wrong.  But, he reasoned, as guilty as he might feel, he certainly didn’t regret a single second of it.  Still, he knew what had to be done.

“I’ll tell her,” he said after a few moments.  “Just… give me time, Plagg?”  He looked away, feeling ashamed.  “I rushed into this part of it, I don’t… I don’t want to completely ruin things between us.”  He glanced back at his kwami.

Plagg was frowning, but sighed when Adrien looked at him.  “Fair enough,” he said.  “I guess I can’t fault you for that.”

Adrien smiled weakly at his kwami, holding out his hands.  Without hesitation, Plagg flew into his open palms.  “I’m sorry,” Adrien sighed, pulling his hands closer to his face, looking down just a few centimeters at his companion.

“Yeah,” Plagg sighed.  “I suppose it would be a shame if she didn’t bake for us anymore.”

Adrien smiled.  “You like her too.”

Plagg shrugged.  “Having listened to a lot of the girls in your class, I know it could be worse.”

“From you, that’s a compliment,” he reasoned.  He sighed, closing his eyes and smiling wistfully.  “She’s great.”

Adrien was fairly certain that Plagg grumbled something like “ _if she makes you happy_ ”, but his kwami adamantly denied it.  Still, it was more than enough for him.

* * *

It seemed, however, that Adrien had underestimated how easy it would be.  When he arrived at school, he was smiling broadly.  Watching as Marinette arrived in class, he couldn’t help the way that his heart stammered slightly.  His mind flitted back to the way that he’d held her so tightly, and the way that she had kissed him so sweetly.  He couldn’t hide the smile, and he knew that Nino already thought he was crazy by the way that he raised his eyebrows at him.  But Adrien waved him off.

Then, came the questions.

“Girl, why do you look so pleased?” Alya asked as soon as Marinette took her seat.

“Oh, you know,” the girl said easily, shrugging off the question.  “Just a good night’s sleep.”

Adrien swallowed the laugh that threatened to burst from his chest.  He knew for a fact that she didn’t get to sleep until rather late—personally he knew his mind was too busy to sleep, even after he departed, which had been long after midnight.  If Marinette was anything like that, she probably only got a few hours of sleep.

But he wasn’t supposed to know that.  So instead he pulled out his tablet for class, tapping the stylus against the screen distractedly.

“Mmhm,” Alya hummed doubtfully.  “Fine,” she said after a moment of considering her best friend.  “Keep your secrets for now.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.

Adrien bit his lip to try and hide his smile.

Later, during the change of classes, Adrien was met with his first real challenge.  Marinette walked, her bag over her shoulder, and a book in one arm, cradled to her chest.  Her other hand was hanging loosely beside her bag, and the boy wanted nothing more than to grab that hand and hold it in his.  The idea was definitely appealing, to walk with the girl, hand in hand.  He frowned a little, staring at her hand and wishing he could take it in his.

At their second class change, Nino addressed this.

“Dude,” he said under his breath.  “Are you checking Marinette out?”

“What?” Adrien said quickly.  “No!”  He cringed at how fast the response was, sounding undoubtedly fake.  Nino gave him a look, eyebrows raised as he peered over his glasses.  “Shut up,” he muttered.

Nino smiled a little to himself, and Adrien shoved him playfully.

“Dude, your secret’s safe with me,” he assured the blonde boy.

Adrien sighed, blushing as they entered the classroom and he sunk low into his chair.  “Perfect,” he muttered.

“You know you could tell her if you like her,” Nino added then, and Adrien just glared at him.

However, for whatever reason, Nino took this as a sign of shyness—and then decided to take it upon himself to help his friend.  So before class started, he turned in his seat to face Alya and Marinette.

“How would you ladies like to get lunch together?” he asked them, gesturing to Adrien.

Adrien felt his heart drop.  No, that was _definitely not_ what he wanted.  More time with Marinette was naturally welcome, but _not_ when he was trying to figure things out—

“Of course,” Alya said with a nod, answering for the both of them.  “To the café down the street?”

“Sounds perfect,” Nino agreed with a nod.

But before Adrien could argue, their teacher walked in, and class had started.

“ _What was that for_?” Adrien demanded in a hiss.

“ _You’re welcome_!” Nino responded with a grin.

Adrien tried not to groan.  He had no way of explaining his way out of this; he couldn’t very well tell his best friend that he was, in fact, secretly dating the girl that he just tried to set him up with.  The problem, of course, arose in the fact that _she_ wasn’t even aware that it was him.  And, oh, _that_ would be incredibly fun to explain.

He considered his alternatives.  He thought of things that he could say to Nino, but he knew that his friend was convinced he was helping him.  He tried to come up with some way to convince Nino that he was not, in fact, interested in the girl—but it seemed that ship had already sailed.

Instead, his mind wandered to what he could say to Marinette, should Nino and Alya forcibly give the two some “alone time” (which, knowing the two schemers, seemed inevitable). He couldn’t very well tell her that he was aware they were both in a relationship (the same relationship, his brain reminded him) considering that was supposed to be a _secret_.  His only consolation was that she wasn’t likely to show any interest in him, considering she was taken.

His heart stopped.  _Oh god_.  What if he let part of his Chat side show?  At this point, he had no doubt that she knew Chat Noir better than anyone (except perhaps Ladybug, but that was different, really).  What if he said something that gave himself away?  If he told a certain joke, or if he moved his hands a certain way?

He knew he had to tell her, but _not at all like that_ …

He bit his lip.  Or would he be better off that way, to let her slowly figure it out for herself?  Would it work to come to her own conclusion, to realize that she had known him all along?

But, he reasoned, if she was upset to find out the truth… at least it would be better if she heard it directly from him, wouldn’t it?

He felt a small ache blossoming in his head.  This had gotten way too complicated.

And suddenly, he was standing in line at the packed café, Marinette’s shoulder pressed firmly against his arm due to the lunch hour crowd.  Nino and Alya had abandoned them, insisting that they would scope out a table, with the place being so busy.  Adrien had silently cursed the two co-conspirators, but smiled as Marinette looked to him questioningly and the two had taken their place in the queue.

“Do you know what you’re going to get?”

Adrien glanced at Marinette, who was looking at him as though she was trying to politely make conversation.  _This shouldn’t be this awkward_ , he thought desperately.  But, he reasoned, it was technically _his_ fault…

“Not sure yet,” he said, looking back to the menu.  The truth was, he was too busy trying to police himself, hyperaware of every movement he made and every word he spoke, so as to not accidentally reveal himself.  He had even briefly allowed a momentary thought of _this can’t get much worse…_

Which was, of course, when there was a _CRASH_ and a few screams, along with a menacing laugh.  The entire building shook and people ran and ducked for cover; Adrien quickly pulled Marinette to the ground as his instincts kicked in.

 _Of course_ , he thought bitterly.  Because an akuma attack was definitely what he needed at that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by me: http://imatrisarahtops.tumblr.com/post/147147363288/imatrisarahtops-hi-my-name-is-sarah-and-im


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sorry that this took longer. I rewrote it like five times because it wasn't coming out right. Also my time has been eaten up because I just adopted a cat!
> 
> Anyway. Songs for this chapter: “Wild” by Royal Teeth & “Heartbeat” by the Fray.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> _Oh, I feel your heartbeat and you’re coming around, coming around, coming around._  
>  _If you can love somebody, love them all the same._  
>  (“Heartbeat” by the Fray)

The akumatized girl was clearly an employee, and Adrien thought she looked as though she was just a few years older than he was.  Even in her villainized state she had the recognizable apron, logo printed on it.  He thought he'd seen an employee storming off just a few minutes ago, after a customer yelled at her—it must have been the same girl.

Adrien looked back down at Marinette, who was beneath him, looking up at him with wide eyes.  "Sorry," he quickly mumbled, sitting back and placing a hand to the back of his neck.

"Thank you," she responded, looking away from him.  He wasn't sure if the gratitude was for 'saving her' or for actually getting off of her.

The akumatized girl narrowed her eyes, glaring at the patrons as though trying to find the customer that had wronged her.  Marinette gave Adrien's arm a tug, pulling him behind a table which had been knocked on its side.  They were covered for now, and he leaned back against the table trying to calm himself.

Adrien's heart was pounding erratically.  He knew he had to transform, but first he had to get away from Marinette.  He wasn't sure what to do—he wanted to protect the girl and keep her safe, but in order to do that, he needed to be Chat Noir.  He was fairly certain he'd never felt this nervous at the idea of an akuma attack before.  But, he reasoned, with an uncomfortable sensation in his stomach, that was probably due to the fact that Marinette was right beside him.

With Ladybug it was different.  If he failed her, she had her kwami and its magic to help protect her.  There were only a few times when he felt genuinely scared because his Lady seemed to be in genuine danger.  With Marinette...

He swallowed his fear.  He knew exactly what had to be done.  He peered out from around the table and again swallowed thickly.  He retreated to see that Marinette was also peeking around the other side of the table.

He took a deep breath and grabbed her hand.  She jumped slightly, then looked at him curiously.  "Marinette," he told her urgently.  "You have to get out of here."

She bit her lip.  "What about you?" she asked.

He wanted to kiss her right then.  He wanted to tell her he'd be fine, that it was her he was worried about.  But instead, he remembered himself, and remembered that she had no clue who he was.  "I'll find Alya and Nino," he supplied quickly.  "I want to make sure they get out, too."

Marinette considered this for a moment before nodding once.  He relaxed, and reasoned that really it was only a half-lie.  He would ensure his two friends were out of the café, but technically it would be as Chat Noir.

She gave his hand a squeeze.  "Be careful?" she said, looking him straight in the eye.

His stomach flipped.  Again he fought the urge to kiss her, or otherwise do something that would completely give him away.  Not trusting himself to speak, he merely nodded.

And she was off.

He breathed a sigh of relief once he watched her dart out the door with a few others.  Plagg poked his head out of Adrien's pocket. The kwami gave Adrien a knowing look but he groaned.  "No time for a lecture right now," he said quickly.  He was thankful that the table he was next to a wall, and he was hidden from view.  "Plagg, _transformez moi_!"

Chat Noir vaulted over the flipped table, and he quickly set himself in front of the akuma, holding his baton, his feet wide in a fighting stance.  He knew he had to buy time for everyone to get out and for Ladybug to arrive.

"What's Sumatra with you, coffee breath?" he asked her.

The akuma pursed her lips.  "My name is Caffiend!" she snapped at the hero.  "Give me your Miraculous, Chat Noir, and we can put an end to this quickly."

"If you think it'll be that easy, you are in for a _brewed_ awakening," Chat quipped.

Caffiend growled in response, and clutched the item in her hand more tightly.  Chat hadn't noticed it before.  It was a portafilter, and he quickly guessed that it was what was housing the akuma.  Caffiend then extended the handle of the object, much like Chat's own staff.

 _Well, this will be interesting_ , he thought.

The girl swung at him and he met the blow with one of his own.  Luckily, he was far more skilled in this type of combat.  Even with her akumatized abilities, she was swinging a little wildly.  Meanwhile, he was seasoned in this, skilled with his weapon and agile as his cat persona.

It took Chat a few minutes after Ladybug's appearance to actually notice her, and he quickly realized it was because she had taken advantage of her inconspicuous arrival to assist as many civilians as possible in escaping the café.

Once she was noticed, Caffiend jabbed the staff-like portafilter at Chat's stomach and he fell on his back, clutching where the weapon had met him.  Instead, she ran over to Ladybug, but the heroine was ready with her yo-yo.  She used it to pull down a shelf stocked with bags of grounds atop the akuma.  It gave Chat enough time to recover, getting to his feet and running to Ladybug's side.

"All right?" she asked, and Chat nodded.

"Thanks a _latte_  for the help, my Lady," he said.  "Shall we put an end to this quickly?"

Ladybug nodded resolutely.  "I'd like a little time for lunch before heading back to school," she said with a smile.  " _Lucky charm_!"

A red and black-spotted jar fell into her open hands.  She blinked at it, opening it to reveal—

“Honey?” Chat queried.  “I suppose we can hope she has a sweet tooth.”

Ladybug hesitated.  "I have an idea," she said, and she didn’t waste a moment.  She ran through the doors to the kitchen.

“What do you need me to do?” Chat asked her as he followed.

From there, the trap was easy to set.  Caffiend was on their heels, but the moment she was through the doors, her feet stuck to the honey they’d spread on the floor.  As she glared at the sticky substance, Chat dropped the overhead array of pots and pans on her.  She threw up her arms, and Ladybug took advantage of the distraction to use her yo-yo and pull the portafilter to her.  She broke it, capturing the akuma in her yo-yo.

“Bye-bye, _petit papillon,_ ” she said with a smile.  “Miraculous Ladybug!”

After the magic restored everything to its previous state, the duo assisted the disoriented employee outside (after a quick _“bien joue!”_ and fist-bump). There was still a crowd congregating around the outside of the café.  Some were already shouting questions at them, and Ladybug was giving her usual smile and wave, but her partner was distracted.  Chat glanced around for the familiar face, but his stomach dropped when he saw Alya and Nino, but no Marinette.

"Did you see Marinette when you were helping everyone out?" he asked Ladybug.

The girl's smile fell.  "Marinette?" she inquired.  The thing was, she had definitely _not_ seen Chat Noir before she had transformed herself.  And so, this question was a little unsettling to her.  "How do you..."

"I want to make sure she's okay—"

_BEEP!_

"You're about to detransform," she told him, still frowning.

Chat sighed.  "As are you," he pointed out.  “A bit of _deja brew_ , don’t you think?”  He smirked and winked.  "Until next time, milady.”

They went their separate ways, escaping the crowd.  But as Marinette’s transformation faded, she didn’t feel the usual sense of victory—instead, she felt something foreign and a little strange, a nervousness she wasn’t sure how to explain.

She was quick to find her friends, but she said very little as they grabbed food as fast as they could and made their way back to school.  Thankfully, Alya was busy discussing the attack, giving a play-by-play of everything she’d witnessed while also making conjectures and her usual commentary.  On another day, Marinette would have participated.

"Hey girl, are you okay?" Alya asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Marinette quickly nodded, forcing a smile as she looked at Alya.  She supposed it had been rather obvious she was out of sorts. "Of course!”

But Alya was still frowning.  She glanced at Nino, who shrugged, and Adrien whose brow was furrowed concernedly at the girl.  "Is it about the akuma attack?" she pressed on.  She lowered her voice before continuing.  "I'm sorry lunch didn’t really go the way we planned…”

Marinette just nodded vaguely, her mind once again wandering to other matters as they slipped into their classroom and took their seats.  She rested her chin in her hand, tapping her pencil on her notebook.  Thankfully, Alya dropped the matter.

The truth was, Marinette didn't want to raise her head.  She didn’t want to look up, instead focusing on the book sitting on her desk.  She was afraid that if she glanced away for even a moment, she would be unconsciously looking at Chat Noir.

It was the only explanation she could think of—he had to be someone she knew.  That would be why he knew she was there, even without her seeing him; they must have crossed paths as civilians.

She wasn't sure why this troubled her so much.

The rest of the afternoon, any time that someone talked to Marinette, she jumped, then stared at the speaker, scrutinizing them.  She was torn.  Part of her desperately wanted to hide in her mind so she wouldn't have to confront the possibility of already knowing Chat Noir; another part felt an inclination to solve this new mystery.  She didn't know what she wanted to do; she didn't know which choice was right.

"Are you okay?"

This time, the question came from Tikki as Marinette sat at her desk at home. The rest of her day had passed in a blur, her mind spinning in circles— _did she want to know?—_ until she made it to the bakery. She had retreated straight to her room, not uttering more than a greeting to her parents.  She had taken out her homework and her sketchbook, hoping that one would appeal to her, but instead she sat, staring blankly at her wall, her mind unable to stop for even just a moment.

Marinette looked at her kwami.  "I..."  She sighed, eyes turning instead to the books on her desk. "I don't know."

Tikki came over to float right in front of Marinette's line of vision.  "Do you want to talk about it?" she offered helpfully. 

Marinette bit her lip.  Suddenly she couldn’t think of an answer for even such a simple question.  But perhaps that was a sign she _should_ talk about it.  "Do I know Chat Noir outside of the costume?" she asked her kwami.

Tikki shrugged.  "I can't answer that, Marinette," she said.  "You've always decided that you didn't want to know who he is."

Marinette looked down at her hands.  "But I never really thought that I knew him," she admitted.  "I thought that when Chat and I finally revealed ourselves, that it would just be connecting a new name to the face.  I never thought that maybe it could be someone I already know."

Tikki seemed confused. "Is that really a bad thing?"

The girl frowned.  "I don't know," she said truthfully.  "I can't even imagine anyone being Chat.  I just..."  She sighed.

"Do you think that it would change your feelings for him?"

"Do you mean would I like him any less?"  Marinette grimaced.  "It sounds terrible but... I don't know.  I can't even wrap my mind about this possibility. He could be _anyone_..."

"Well, you don't even know if it's true unless you talk to him," Tikki pointed out.  “Maybe it’s time you learned who he is.”

Marinette nodded vaguely, just as there was a knock on her trap door.  For once, she didn't race up to get it.

She swallowed as Tikki hid away.  “It’s open,” she called.

She watched the trap door.  It slowly opened, and she was looking up at the face of Chat Noir.  "Princess?" he asked a little hesitantly.  "May I come in?"

Marinette nodded, and the boy climbed down.  In just a moment he was before her, smiling; it wasn't his usual smirk, however.  As happy as he was to see her, the grin didn't reach his eyes. He seemed concerned about her definitely subdued behavior. 

"Is everything okay?" he asked her.  He wanted to take her in his arms, to just feel her and know everything was okay, but he could tell that it wasn't.

She closed her eyes.  "Ladybug said something to me today..."  She swallowed.  She was lying, and she really hated lying to him; it felt worse than being lied to.  But she still wasn't ready, not to tell him, and that meant she had to make a plausible story.  "She said you were looking for me at the café, but... But I left before you got there, and..."  She sighed, looking up at Chat Noir, whose face was etched with concern, and she _hated_  what she was doing right now but the thoughts wouldn't leave her alone.  "Do we know each other?" she asked at last.  "Do I know you under the mask?"

Chat looked down at the floor.  Marinette took a calming breath.  He could still say 'no', she could be wrong, he could still be someone whose face she'd never seen in full because of the leather mask—

"Yes."

And just like that, time seemed to stop.

Chat knelt before her.  "We know each other, Marinette," he said.  He looked up to her, his expression pained as though admitting it wasn't entirely pleasant for him, either.  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

She didn't know what to say; she could hardly even think.  Her world had suddenly tilted because _this_ was not something she had ever considered during her three years as Ladybug.

"Why didn't you come to me as yourself?" she asked, and she hated the way that her voice broke.  She shouldn't be feeling this emotional.  It felt wrong, especially when she was keeping her own monumental secret, but something about this... She couldn't understand.  "Why as Chat?"

She always tried to keep her life as Ladybug as separate as she could. She knew there were moments she failed at this—but after everything that has happened with Volpina, she vowed to never use her super heroine identity in such a way again. But it seemed that Chat didn't have this same mentality, and something about that hurt her.  And because of it all, she wanted to let herself be selfish, to focus on the pain she was feeling instead of trying to get to the bottom of it all and try to empathize.

"Because as Chat, I _am_  myself," he told her, squeezing her hands in his. "The _me_  that you know otherwise... I have to be what everyone expects of me; I don't always get to be myself.  And if I'm truthful... You don't act yourself around _him_ , either."

He paused.  He shuffled forward on his knees, trying to get her to look at him, but she looked at the floor.  "But I want to fix that," he said sincerely.  "Let me tell you who I am, and—"

"No."

Chat froze.  "W-what?"

"No," she repeated, shaking her head.

Chat Noir released her hands.  "Why not?" he asked desperately.  "Marinette—"

She stood, turning away from him, angling herself so he was just in her peripheral.  "It would be different if you'd come to me first as a civilian," she said.  "It would be different because we'd just be two classmates—or acquaintances or whatever—and we'd have become friends and then maybe more.  But like this..."  She shook her head.  "This isn't safe."

His ears drooped.  ”I'm sorry I put you in danger—"

"It isn't safe for you," she amended.  "I can't know who you are.  That's why I never asked."

He padded softly over to her, placing a gentle hand on her arm.  "I trust you, Marinette—"

"But I don't," she argued, turning to face him.  "What if—what if I got akumatized?  Or what if I let something slip to Alya?  What if she found out about us and wouldn't stop until I told her?  What if we broke up and things ended badly..."

"You wouldn't do that," Chat said confidently.  "You don't give yourself enough credit—"

"You give me _too much_ credit," she countered.  "You don't know all of me, either, Chat.  I have my own secrets, ones I'm not ready to share.  I'm not the person you seem to think I am."  She gestured widely, willing him to understand.

They were silent for a moment.  "You are an amazing person, Marinette," he told her, and he moved his hand to gently cup her cheek.  "You're not perfect, but no one expects you to be."  She scoffed that this— _if only he knew_.  "I mean that.  Everyone is flawed.  I just happen to care about you anyway."

But it was still too much.  ”Can you... Can you just leave me alone?" she requested.  He pulled back as though he'd been burned, and she felt the shame rising.  "I just need to think," she clarified.  "I'm sorry, Chat, I...  I can't figure this out right now."

Chat nodded jerkily.  "Of course, Princess."  The hurt was evident in his voice.  She wanted to take it back, to say something just to appease him despite her inner turmoil, but without another word, he was gone. 

Once left alone, her mind didn't feel much clearer. And when Tikki came out of hiding, just a minute later, the look she was giving Marinette honestly made her feel worse.  She refused to meet her kwami’s eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she murmured to Tikki.  She couldn’t help but feel as though talking had just made things worse.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fast! But last night, my kitty Freya got sick. So before I managed three hours of sleep, I spent quite a bit of time writing. She's currently staying overnight at the vet, and while I'm sure she'll be okay, I'm just worried and stressed and I miss her like crazy. I needed a distraction. So why not fix things between these two kids?
> 
> Songs for this this chapter are "Vanilla Twilight” by Owl City & “Flaws” by Bastille.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> _There’s a hole in my soul._  
>  _I can’t fill it, I can’t fill it._  
>  _There’s a hole in my soul._  
>  _Can you fill it? Can you fill it?_  
>  (“Flaws” by Bastille)

The next day at school for Adrien was hell.

His night had been plagued with the echoes of the “what ifs” and “whys” that Marinette had planted in his brain.  His consciousness took it further, though.  It went from the small suggestions she had mentioned to something more that invaded every corner of his mind, and he couldn't shake it no matter how hard he tried.

_What if he had gone to her as Adrien instead of Chat?  Would it be different?  Would she have listened and given him a chance?  What if she had?  Would they be at a similar point?  Would he have been able to explain away more easily the fact that he was Chat Noir than the other way around?_

And then once he would quell these thoughts, assuring himself that there was nothing he could do to change the past, the others would set in...

_Why hadn't he told her sooner?  Why didn't she want to know?  Why wouldn't she just listen..?_

“Dude, are you okay?”

He looked up at Nino, who was staring at him concernedly.  Adrien just lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“Maybe there's something going around,” Nino suggested, still looking at his best friend with a worried expression.  He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.  “Marinette seems really out of it, too.”

He glanced back at the girl, and he had to admit that she did appear rather 'out of it'.  His chest ached.  He knew that ache was partially due to seeing the girl and not being able to say anything to her, and partially due to the fact that he had caused the brokenness she was experiencing, in one way or another.  Part of him wanted to walk right over to her and take her in his arms; he reasoned that it would help reveal himself to her, and potentially put a smile back on her face.

 _But_ , he reminded himself, _that was only if she didn't hate him..._

Adrien turned back around and rested his face in his hands with a sigh.

“Seriously,” Nino said, putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning in closer.  “Is everything okay, man?”

“It's... complicated,” he offered in a mumble.  “I just messed some things up.”

Nino looked at him thoughtfully.  “Is this about Marinette?” he asked.

Adrien bit his lip.  Nino already knew he had feelings for the girl—he just didn't know the extent or the circumstances.  “Yes,” he admitted.  “But,” he quickly added, “like I said, it's really complicated.”

Nino nodded understandingly.  “I mean, it seems like she's pretty torn up about it too, whatever it is.”

Adrien shook his head.  “She doesn't even know,” he sighed.  Nino raised an eyebrow at this.  “It’s—”

“Complicated, right,” he cut in.  “I know you'll tell me when you work it out.”

The relief washed over Adrien, and he smiled weakly at his friend.  He was so thankful for the understanding, not having to worry about explaining himself to Nino when he was still so concerned about working things out with Marinette.  That took a weight off of him, having to only really worry about patching things up with the girl.

Still, it only helped a fraction.  He was so preoccupied, and so hyper-aware of Marinette's presence.  It felt as though the day was dragging on, so impossibly slow.  He wondered what was going on in Marinette's mind.  She now knew that she knew Chat Noir's alter-ego, even if she didn't want to find out who exactly.  He figured that was the worst part.  He was used to the fans as Adrien, people who admired his face and the person they thought he was; even as Chat Noir, he knew he had a handful of fans who crushed on the superhero, but even that was superficial.

With Marinette, it had been different.  He'd let her in, and she'd settled herself in his heart so easily.  And he knew that she felt the same.  That was why she'd told him he wasn't settling for her, why she let him kiss her on her balcony.  All he'd ever wanted was for someone to care for the real him, and with Marinette, he'd found that.  But now that he wanted to share that tiny other piece of himself, to let her see the picture in its entirety, suddenly it all crumbled.  He was so close, but it slipped through his grasp.

And the horrifying thought occurred to him—what if she had already figured it out for herself? What if she really did hate him as Adrien now?

He'd been so distracted as he gathered his books, not paying attention where he was going, that he collided with another body, sending them both to the floor.

“Sorry, Adrien!” the other person exclaimed, and he looked up sharply to see Marinette.  The girl was blushing slightly from embarrassment, picking his books up to hand back to him.  “I've been distracted,” she said apologetically, holding out his textbooks to him.

He swallowed tightly, his heart pounding.  He struggled with the words, and he couldn't help but think that was such a role-reversal.  Usually the girl couldn't get her words out in front of him, and suddenly he was incapable of the same.  “Don't worry,” he said at last.  “I wasn't paying attention either.”

She chuckled, getting to her feet and offering him her hand.  The gesture eased his mind—she hadn't figured out who he was. “Guess we should be more careful,” she murmured.  He took her hand, and he felt the warmth and electricity of her touch.  Her hand felt so different without the gloves on his own, soft skin and a firm but gentle grip.  He knew he'd touched her skin before, having caught the clumsy girl on several occasions or helped her back to her feet.  But now it was different...

“Marinette,” he said softly, and she looked at him, tilting her head.  “I…”

He wanted to tell her.  It would be so simple to say, just three words— _I'm Chat Noir_.  She could love him as Adrien, even if it took time. She could, if she would just listen.

“Yes?” she prompted kindly.

“Just—thanks,” he said, and he felt sick to his stomach at his inability to say what he wanted to.  He forced a smile.  “I—I'll see you later.”  And he pressed past her.  He glanced over his shoulder to see the girl looking back at him confusedly but he didn't change his course.  Instead, he stopped in the bathroom that he knew was always vacant.  He braced his hands on the rim of the sink, his shoulders raised tensely as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hey.”

“Not now, Plagg,” he muttered, not opening his eyes.

However, the kwami was undeterred.  He poked Adrien's cheek with his tail.  “Stop beating yourself up,” he said firmly. “I can practically hear everything that's been going on in your head today.”

Adrien sighed, lowering his shoulders slightly. “I can't help it,” he said. “You were right about everything.”

“No,” Plagg insisted.

Adrien scoffed. “You mean you _didn't_ tell me that this wouldn't work out?” he asked. “I thought you'd be celebrating your victory. You were right, I'm an _idiot_.”

Plagg groaned. “I was _wrong_ ,” he said. “I meant it about it not working out when you're in the mask but I can see how much you care about her. I know you want to make this work.”

“Then what do I do?”

“You fight for it,” Plagg said. “You fight just as hard as you do against the akumas. You never throw in the towel with them, so why is this different?”

“Because I don't want to hurt her.”

“You didn't want to hurt Nino either when he was akumatized,” the kwami reasoned. “But you still figured that out.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “It's really not the same, Plagg,” he said. “Marinette won't listen and I don't understand why.”

“She'll come around,” Plagg assured him. “All I'm saying is if you really care about her that much, then you'll figure it out.”

Adrien opened his mouth to respond when his phone buzzed in his pocket. _Great—time for fencing_. He just hoped he could try to focus long enough to get through it. 

* * *

“Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?” Alya asked, but Marinette shook her head.

“It won't help,” she sighed. “What I need is to just go home and try to sleep.”

Alya looked dubious, but she nodded. “All right,” she said. She pointed a finger at her friend. “But you call if you change your mind, got it?”

“Got it,” Marinette assured her with a nod.

Alya sighed and folded her arms over her chest as she watched her best friend leave. 

“Anything?”

Alya turned to Nino, who was suddenly at her shoulder. She shook her head. “I'm guessing Adrien's just as tight-lipped about it?”

“Yeah…” he said. “I just don't get it.”

Alya shook her head. “Marinette has been off since the attack yesterday,” she pointed out. “Did something happen when we were all separated?”

Nino shrugged. “I have no clue,” he said. “And Adrien seemed fine yesterday.”

Alya tapped her chin thoughtfully, humming as she did so. “Something is _definitely_ up…”

“All I know is they're acting weird and won't talk about it.”

“They need to talk to _each other_ ,” Alya sighed. "These kids better figure it out soon because it's stressing _me_ out.” Nino nodded in agreement. 

* * *

Marinette groaned, ripping another paper from her sketchbook and tossing it at the trash can. She had tried to settle her mind by designing, but everything she was coming up with was terrible. She folded her arms across the book, burying her face in them. 

She felt a tiny pat on her arm.  “You have five minutes until your patrol starts.”

Marinette lifted her head again, looking at Tikki.  Truthfully, she felt guilty.  Her kwami kept trying to help her talk things out, but the girl refused, constantly brushing her off.  She didn’t _want_ to talk things out.  She knew what the solution was; she knew that she had to talk to Chat Noir.  The solution itself was easy—she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.  And because of that she was more frustrated at herself than anything or anyone else.

It wasn’t fair that she was doing this to her kwami.

“Tikki—”

“You don’t need to apologize, Marinette,” she told her quickly with a genuine smile.  “I understand that this is hard for you.  Just remember that your friends want to help, all right?”  She patted her hand again.

Overwhelmed by her understanding, Marinette brought her close to her face.  Tikki hugged her cheek, and Marinette smiled.

“Thank you,” she murmured.  “You’re the best.”

“I try,” Tikki told her.  “Now should we go meet Chat?”

Marinette nodded resolutely.  “Tikki, _transformez moi_!” she said, and a second later she was clad in her spots.

She was quick to make it to the Eiffel Tower, where they usually met.  This time, she wished she had taken a few minutes longer on the journey, if only to really prepare herself for seeing her partner.  She had to remember she was not Marinette right now—at least, not as far as he knew.  She had to play the part right.

Chat was already waiting for her.  She wondered how long he had been sitting there, if that was his own way of escaping reality.  The only problem though, she reasoned, was the problems were still there for him as Chat Noir—that’s where they had started for him.  For her, being Ladybug meant she could pretend she wasn’t having a terrible internal battle right now.

She felt a pang in her chest for him.

He was perched on a rail, looking down over the city.  He looked lost in thought, and she had no doubt what those thoughts were about.  He looked sad and tired, and she knew the day must have been difficult for him, too.  She took a moment to admire the sight—as heartbroken as he looked, there was something breathtaking about the way the city lights reflected in his eyes while turning his hair golden.

“Hey, Chaton,” she said softly, as though afraid of completely breaking the moment.

He turned to her, and a smirk graced his lips.  “My Lady,” he said in greeting, jumping down before her. He took her hand in his, kissing the knuckles; for once, she let him.

“Shall we get started?” she asked.

Chat Noir nodded, and didn’t say anything more.  This was an old routine for them; they didn’t need to discuss what they were doing or where they were going.  Each was used to it by now.

Usually, the occasional monotony of nights like this was broken up with conversation between the two, from jokes and teasing remarks to comments and questions about their days (without going into too much detail, as Ladybug would always remind him).  But tonight, there was a silence between them.  It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, but it was definitely heavy.  Ladybug couldn’t bring herself to say anything until they reached the Eiffel Tower once more.

She kept thinking about what Tikki had said—‘ _your friends want to help_ ’.  Right now, she wasn’t Marinette—she was _Ladybug_.  And maybe that meant she could start fixing things by being Chat Noir’s friend.

She knew it wasn’t her best option, but she needed a little bit of Ladybug’s courage to get things started.  And, she reasoned, she was sure the boy under the mask had friends, but she was also rather certain that she was _Chat’s_ only true friend, just as he was hers as Ladybug.  She doubted he could talk to his friends about the situation, so maybe she was the only one he could.

She tried not to think about how ridiculous and complicated the situation was.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked without preamble.

Chat’s eyes widened in surprise at first, his entire body tensing; and then, he sagged slightly, his ears drooping, shoulders falling, and his eyes looking away.  “Am I that obvious?” he asked.  “Or did Marinette talk to you?”

Ladybug bit her lip.  “A bit of both,” she lied after a moment.

Chat sighed, ambling over to the edge of the platform they were on.  Then, he settled himself on the ledge, legs dangling off as he looked off again.  Ladybug went over to join him, seating herself beside him.

“I want to tell her who I am,” he said, “when I’m not Chat Noir.”  He shook his head.  “I wanted to tell her before she figured out that we know each other already.  But when I tried to tell her… she wouldn’t listen.”

Ladybug paused.  It was a strange situation—she of course knew all the details.  She tried to imagine he was talking about anyone else but her, just so she could help as his friend.  “What did she say?” she asked.

“That it wasn’t safe,” he said.  “For me, mostly.  She doesn’t seem to trust herself.”

“Maybe she just wants to protect you,” Ladybug offered.

He turned to look at her, brow furrowed.  “ _Protect_ me?”

“You keep all of Paris safe, _Chaton_ ,” she explained.  “Who returns the favor?”  She smiled gently.  “You don’t even keep yourself safe; instead, you’re quick to sacrifice yourself, usually to protect me.”  She sighed, looking back out at the city.  “There are risks in telling people who we are.  We’ve always known that.  And she knows it, too.  She doesn’t want to put you in more danger than you already put yourself.”

“But she wouldn’t be putting me in danger,” he argued, indignant.

“But do you _know_ that?” she asked.  “I know that you _feel_ it, but are you completely certain?”

He sighed.  “It’s a risk that I am willing to take,” he said.

Again Ladybug took her bottom lip between her teeth.  “Why do you want to tell her, anyway?” she asked at last.

“Because I want her to know both parts of me,” he said simply.  “It isn’t as though we can date when I’m like this.”  He smiled wryly.  “We can’t go out, and if we did, I’m sure the media would have a field day with it.”

“Fair enough,” Ladybug conceded.

“I want to be completely hers,” he said, his voice so soft she could hardly hear him.  “I was stupid and rushed into everything.  I should have taken my time, I should have asked her out as my civilian self.  But I didn’t, because I was too caught up in it all.  Now, I need to fix it.”

“You must care for her a lot.”

“I do,” he responded, and she felt her stomach flip at the thought.  “That’s why this is so difficult.  I just want her to listen…”

“Give her time,” she suggested.  “She will.  It just… it might take time.  Three years later, and we still don’t know each other’s identities, _Chaton_ ,” she reminded him.

“I’m afraid that if I wait too long…”

“But she has to be ready to hear it,” Ladybug said.  “You can tell her anyway, but if she’s not ready, I don’t think it will help the situation at all.”

Chat Noir considered this for several long minutes.  “You’re right,” he said at last.  “I’ll just have to wait.”  Ladybug smiled at him gently.  “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

And then, he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.  “I can’t say I ever imagined this,” he said, turning his head back to Ladybug, who was looking at him questioningly.

“What?”

“You,” he clarified, “giving me advice about the girl I love.”

Ladybug’s eyes widened at the statement.  After a beat, Chat’s expression mirrored hers once he realized what he said.

“‘ _Love_ ’?” she asked.

“Er…”  Chat blushed, scratching the back of his head embarrassedly.  “I don’t—“

“Have you told Marinette that you love her?” she asked, but she didn’t need to.  She already knew the answer.

“I—no,” he admitted.

“Do you plan on it?” she demanded.

Chat frowned.  “I was more concerned with getting her to talk to me again,” he said defensively.  “And it’s not…”  He sighed frustratedly.  “It’s different.  I used to have this really firm, narrow definition of love, but it’s… it’s not what I thought it was.  I used to think it was all fireworks and sparks and this huge thing that consumes every part of you…”

He took a deep breath.  “I don’t know if I’m _in_ _love_ with her,” Chat admitted.  “Not yet, at least.  But I started loving Marinette before I knew I had feelings for her,” he explained.  “I loved her from that first time she gave me hot chocolate and we asked each other questions.  She made me feel more at home than my actual ‘home’ has in years.

“That’s why I don’t want to mess this up,” he said.  “I don’t want to lose that—to lose her.”

Ladybug stared at him wordlessly before lunging forward, wrapping her arms around his neck.  It knocked Chat off balance, and he had to quickly lean forward, pressing against her to keep them from falling. He blinked confusedly before slowly returning the hug, his hands moving from where they were gripping her sides.

“Ladybug?” he said questioningly, just a hint of concern in his voice.

“I’m just happy for you,” she mumbled into his shoulder as she squeezed him tightly.  “I’m happy she makes you feel that way.”  She pulled away slowly.

He smiled warmly at her.  “That really means a lot,” he said.

“You should go talk to her,” Ladybug said.

“Now?”

She nodded.  “Even if she’s not ready, just… talk to her.  I know she feels just as terrible without you.”

Chat seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding.  “I will.”

He got to his feet, and suddenly Ladybug remembered herself.

“You should feed your kwami first,” she suggested quickly, standing as well.  “You don’t want to make it too long of a night for him.”

“Good idea,” he said.  He paused, then pulled her in for a hug of his own.  “Thank you again, Ladybug,” he murmured into her hair.  “You’ve really helped.”

She smiled softly as he held her.  “Anytime, _Chaton_."

* * *

Marinette wasn’t sure how much time she bought herself by suggesting Chat feed his kwami, so she didn’t waste a second of it, just to be safe. She made it home and released her transformation, then retrieved two mugs of tea and a cookie from her kitchen. She gave Tikki the cookie with a smile. She changed into warm clothes, knowing that the night was quite cold, and the kwami kissed her cheek and wished her luck before she climbed onto her balcony with the tea. She settled herself in her chair and waited.

About ten minutes later, the moment that Chat’s feet touched down on her balcony, she was out of her chair, flinging her arms around his neck. Again the boy was startled, but quickly relaxed, holding her close to him.

“I missed you, _mon minou,_ ” she said thickly.

Chat patted her hair gently, soothing her. “I missed you, Princess,” he said.

Then—

“ _I’m sorry_ —”

They spoke simultaneously, each breaking off when they heard the other. Chat chuckled softly before continuing. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “If you’re not ready, I’m not going to push you.”

“I’m sorry I’m not ready,” she told him, retreating slightly. “I just…” She squeezed her eyes shut tight. “I’ve been beating myself up about it, but I’m not ready yet and I… I don’t… I don’t want to lose you because of it…”

He put a hand under her chin, lifting her face so their eyes met. “Ladybug helped me see things better from your eyes,” he assured her. “If it’s what you need, then I will wait.”

Marinette smiled. She reached up, placing a hand on either side of his face and pulling him down into a kiss. She tried to put everything she felt into that kiss, from how grateful she was to how sorry she was, and hoping it showed him, without words, just how much she loved him too.

“We’ll work through it,” he murmured against her lips. “We’re a team, right?”

She smiled. She would try for him, and hopefully she’d even get herself to the point where he could realize how true his words were. They _were_ a team— _partners._ “Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On another note, I gave Adrien my personal views on love. One of the reasons I love the MariChat relationship is because the ideas of late night conversations and learning a new side of a person you've already known for a while... all of that is how my boyfriend and I got together. We became friends really quickly, and like Adrien, we fell in love before we even knew we had feelings for each other. So that's a little tribute to him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know, I also draw. I've been trying to post more art when I can on my tumblr. Nothing fancy, but feel free to follow me over there, as imatrisarahtops. (:
> 
> And here comes some plot.
> 
> Songs for this chapter: “Elastic Heart” by Sia & “Demons” by Imagine Dragons.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> _You did not break me,_  
>  _I’m still fighting for peace._  
>  (“Elastic Heart” by Sia)

Adrien's heart pounded as he ran. He could feel Plagg moving in his pocket, restless and agitated and concerned. He knew the kwami was waiting for the all-clear to talk, to discuss what they'd just witnessed.  The thing was, Adrien didn't _want_ to stop.  His heart and his head were producing a painful, erratic rhythm, but he chose to focus on them.  At least then he didn't have to think of what had just happened and what it all meant.

Things had been going so _well_.  Adrien reminded himself bitterly that that should have been a sign, though, shouldn't it?  Things with Marinette had been smoothed out.  They had come to an understanding—an agreement.  They both knew they cared for each other and wanted to fight for this relationship; they had also accepted that they couldn't move forward until there were some key elements discussed and revealed.  But still, he felt like they were making progress in the week or so that had passed, from the way that Marinette would gently ask for clues about his personal life.  It was her way of showing that she was working toward that point, that they were getting closer.  It had excited him, thinking that _maybe_ , soon enough, she'd admit she was ready and he could reveal himself, at which she would smile and—

But right now that didn't matter.

The air was cold and the wind was biting. He'd grabbed his jacket as he left, but it wasn't the heavy coat he should have taken for the winter weather. Still, the speed of his running and his heart rate kept him warm, to the point that he was starting to sweat beneath his layers. 

His limbs felt like lead, and finally he slowed to a stop, leaning against the brick wall of a building.  He panted and coughed, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath but his lungs didn't seem to want to fill, and his pulse wouldn't calm itself.  Some part of his brain registered _this is probably a panic attack_ , but he couldn't even think on that.

He pressed his back against the side of the building, letting it support him until his legs gave out and he sat on the frigid ground.  He leaned his head back, still breathing deeply.  He tried to focus on the breathing rather than any emotion—because he didn't need _that_ , didn't need to be _taken advantage of_ , _especially_ not by...

He swallowed.   _Focus on the breathing._

He felt Plagg push himself out of his pocket, but didn't open his eyes.  Part of him was still hoping that it wasn't true.  He didn't want to talk about it, to face the reality. Instead, he wanted to just try to ignore it, or else explain it all away because it didn't _have_ to mean what he thought it did...

"Adrien."

 _This was serious_ , Adrien thought briefly.  Plagg rarely used his name, instead opting for a teasing-but-fond nickname in most cases...

"It _can't_ be him, Plagg," he told him by way of response, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that spots swam amongst the blackness.  When Plagg didn't say anything, Adrien opened his eyes to see his kwami looking solemn.  "There's another explanation.  There _has_ to be."

"There could be," he allowed, his words slow and tone uncharacteristically delicate.  "But he said..."

"But it didn't have to _mean_ —"

"He called Nooroo by name," Plagg pressed on. “And… Nooroo is… Papillon's kwami."

"But—" Adrien swallowed. "Maybe he was—"

"Adrien..."

"It could have been—"

" _Adrien_!"

The boy broke off, choking back a sob— _no_ , he couldn't let his emotions surface. "He doesn't _have_ to be, Plagg, he—" He couldn't continue. He didn't know what else to say.

"Adrien, I am trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, just as you are, but I can't think of another legitimate reason why your father would have Papillon's kwami," he said, trying to be gentle but with a definite firmness to his words. "Unless you can?"

Adrien just shook his head.  Plagg eyed him concernedly when he didn't speak.

The whole thing was a mess. Adrien closed his eyes again, but the scenes blurred together— _his father's angry voice behind his closed office door—the shout of the name Nooroo—and the parts of the conversation he had picked up on, speaking of Miraculouses and akumas and, worst of all, a mention Adrien's mother_.  He'd hid. He'd watched as his father stormed out of the room, adjusting his scarf, and he'd crept behind him watching, to his horror, as he opened a secret passage—he had faintly heard, as the door closed behind him, the familiar order of ' _transformez moi_ '.

It was then that Adrien had started running. Things slotted into place from his first year as Chat Noir— _the safe behind the painting of his mother, the book of Miraculouses, the information on Tibet—_

Everything was spiraling downward. It was out of control and he felt like he was going to be sick. 

"What do I do?" he asked Plagg desperately, looking to him sadly. "I don't know—I can't even _think_..."

"We need to tell Ladybug," the kwami said resolutely. "She needs to know. And, _well_ , she's your partner for a reason."

Adrien wanted to object. Something about the idea made him feel even _worse_ —it was like if he said the words, if he had to tell another human being, it would make it _real_ ; it would make it certain, instead of just an insane theory. _It was,_ he thought desperately, clinging to denial, _still just a theory_ , even if there was nearly no room for a different explanation.

He shook his head.  He couldn't kid himself.

"I can't call her," he pointed out. "She won't be transformed right now."

Plagg looked thoughtful, then seemed to hesitate as he got an idea. "But she would transform if there was an akuma," he suggested slowly. 

Adrien immediately understood what Plagg was hinting at—if Papillon had just transformed, then there was undoubtedly a reason, and that reason would be make itself known as an akuma. He swallowed thickly, trying not to dwell on it all. He didn't want to think about _who_ it really was creating the villains, that it was—

 _No_.

"Right," he muttered after a minute. "We'll have to find it then."  He nodded.

Plagg looked at him again. "Are you okay to do this?" he asked, and Adrien knew he had to look terrible if his kwami made that remark.

"I don't have a choice," he said grimly. "Plagg, _transformez moi_!"

A moment later and he was in his leather suit, baton in hand.  He extended it, launching himself to the nearest roof so he could get a better lookout. "Let's find that akuma..." he muttered under his breath. 

* * *

It took Chat longer to find the akuma than he would have liked.  He knew that was normal—from time to time, akumas didn't wreak havoc the second they were transformed.  Often enough they had other motives or goals, and there were many occasions when it took him and Ladybug a while before they were met with the villain.

He figured it was just his luck that when he was seeking the akuma out, it was one of those cases where the person decided to lay low, at first.

The sky was starting to darken, and Chat couldn't help but wonder which would be better—the snow or the rain.  Either way, he silently wished for it to just wait until after the battle—whenever it was that he actually found the akuma.

The moment that he reached the park, he felt on edge— _immediately_ he could sense something off.  The clouds, though threatening, were still taking their time, and for a moment he thought that maybe he had just a tiny ounce of luck on his side, after all.

"Look what the cat dragged in!"  He turned his head.  "Or should I say..."

"Save it," he bit out at the young man—it wasn't hard to see that he was the akumatized victim, from the strange appearance, all bright colors, a jagged mask over his eyes.

"No witty remarks?" he asked.  "How disappointing."

Chat took his baton in his hands, separating his feet in preparation for battle.  "Yeah, well today seems to be big on disappointing people," he growled.  The akuma smirked, raising an eyebrow.  "What do you say we cut to the chase?"

" _Chase_ —" he teased.  "Like a game of cat and mouse?  Or would _cat and dog_ be more suitable?"  Chat narrowed his eyes, and the akuma chuckled.  "I'm Howler, and Chat Noir..."  He lifted the small silver cylinder that was hanging from around his neck.  "...you're in for _quite_ a bit of fun."  He slid the whistle between his lips and blew.

Chat's ears flattened against his head at the sound, though it wasn't like a whistle he'd heard before.  And then, he whipped his head around at the sound of barking dogs, eyes widening as at least a dozen dogs had come at the noise, some of them with leashes trailing behind as though they'd escaped their owners.

 _Of course_ , he thought.   _A dog whistle._

Howler laughed, and Chat turned back to him.  He grimaced, running toward the villain, his baton in his hands—

Teeth clamped down on his tail.  He yanked it from the dog's mouth, but it seemed more dogs were quickly joining the first ones, and they clearly had no intention of being friendly to the hero, who just appeared as a giant cat to them.

 _Great_.

Thankfully, it wasn't long until Ladybug arrived on the scene, spinning her yo-yo in her hand.  And she had a strong advantage this time—not only did the dogs seem more likely to ignore her in favor of him, but she couldn't hear the shrill whistle.  As it was, Chat's frustration was growing, unable to feel anything but useless as he had to constantly dodge the dogs, who were primarily keen on distracting him and being very underfoot.  Other than a few nips, they weren't causing any damage, and Chat had no intention of laying a hand on any of them.

At last, in a desperate attempt to keep the animals away—from the heroes  _and_ the akuma and any potential danger he could cause—he took his baton in hand, hurling it as far away as he could manage.  The dogs took the bait, all tearing after the staff in a game of fetch.

"Nice idea," Ladybug commented, and the corner of his lips quirked up in a small attempt at a smile.

Howler, however, was _not_ amused.

But it wasn't long after that Ladybug used her Lucky Charm—an air horn—to distract the young man and drown out the whistle; immediately after, Chat used his Cataclysm to trap him under the remains of the fence.  He snatched the whistle from Howler's neck and tossed it to Ladybug.  She stomped it into the ground, cleansing the akuma.

" _Bien joue_!" she said, holding out her fist.  He returned the motion, but she frowned when he didn't speak.  "Chat?" she asked questioningly as the boy stooped down, a dog pattering up to him to return his baton.  He holstered the item on his back, then turned to his partner solemnly.

"Can you meet me at the Eiffel Tower in fifteen minutes?" he asked.  "I know you have to take care of your kwami, but— _please_ , it's really important."

She looked at him worriedly, lips parted in question, but she nodded.  "Of course," she said.

"Thank you."

"I'll see you then," she assured him, and she disappeared.

Chat headed straight to the Eiffel Tower.  When his time ran out, he pulled out the small wedge of Camembert for Plagg.  The two didn't speak—Adrien was certain that he didn't know what to say, anyway, and figured that Plagg was much on the same boat.  Shortly after, the kwami gave him a wordless nod when he was ready again, and the boy waited for Ladybug's appearance as Chat Noir.

She appeared exactly fifteen minutes after their defeat of Howler.  She touched down softly, seating herself beside her partner and waiting for him to say something.  He'd spent the time deciding exactly what he would say to her, but now it seemed utterly impossible, his voice completely lost in his throat.  He stared down at his hands until she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong, _Chaton_?" she asked.  "I thought you were just frustrated from the dogs, but... Well, this is bigger than being too annoyed to make some puns, isn't it?"  She gave him a small, encouraging smile, even as the words fell flat.  The corners of her lips drooped again, and she watched him with worry.

It seemed to take an eternity for him to talk.  He stared out across the city, thinking of just how he got to this point when the words tumbled out without warning.  "I know who Papillon is."

Ladybug tensed beside him, her spine straightening and her eyes widening, her fingers curling into her legs.  Clearly whatever she was expecting, this was _not_ it.  "W-what?" she said.  It sounded like she couldn't believe it, and frankly, he didn't blame her.

"I know who he is," he repeated.

"You're... you're sure?" she asked, mildly dubious.  He nodded.  "But... _how_?"

"I saw him," he breathed out, and he heard the gasp beside him.  "Well..." He grimaced.  "I guess _heard_  is more accurate," he allowed.  "He was talking to his kwami, and he—he said—" He broke off with a shuddering breath.

"Shhh," Ladybug soothed.  "Chat..."  She bit her lip.  "How did you hear him?" she pressed on with a gentleness that he was used to from Marinette, and he felt a pang in his chest at the thought—more than anything he wished he could go to the girl, just to seek some comfort, but that was definitely out of the question.  "I don't understand—where were you—"

"I was at home," he said shakily.  "I heard him because he lives there."  He closed his eyes tightly.  "Papillon is my _father_ , Ladybug."

She didn't say a word.  He could feel her hands hovering just between them, as though wanting to comfort him but unsure of what to do.  He knew that if he looked at her face, he'd see the question etched into every inch of her features—' _are you sure?_ '

But he _was_ sure.  As much as he wanted to explain it away, he knew there was really nothing else that it could be.  And in some _horrible_ way, he vaguely thought that it _almost_ made sense.

He straightened his back, squaring his shoulders.  "So what do we do about it?" he asked her gruffly.  He turned to her, seeing the emotions all over her masked face, and he tried to ignore them.

" _Chat_..."

"It's not like he's dad of the year," he said dryly.

"But there's no way you could have expected  _this_ —"

"No," he agreed.  "But that doesn't change anything," Chat said resolutely.  "That doesn't change that for the past three years he's been terrorizing Paris, targeting my classmates, trying to get both of our Miraculouses and not caring what happens as a result."

"Then... he doesn't know it's you," she said uneasily.  "Do you think that if he _did_ —would it be different?"

He shrugged.  "Probably not," he said.  "I'd still just be in his way."  He looked at her, holding her gaze and hoping that she understood—this did not mean he was willing to give up his powers, even if Papillon _was_ his father.  All of the pain and heartbreak he'd felt at first were giving way to righteous anger; it felt like proof that he was on a different path than the man that was his father.

"Why?" Ladybug asked at last.  "I mean... Why does he want them?"  She bit her lip.  "We know that... that having control over both Miraculouses can grant you unrivaled power.  That's what the guardian said.  But... what does he have to gain from it?  Is it just the power itself?"

"He has plenty of power, really," Chat said bluntly.  "It would have to be something he couldn't find otherwise.  Something like..."  And then, he felt a stab in his chest— _he knew what his father would want._

"Chat?" she pressed softly.

"It doesn't matter," he said quickly, and he turned his face away from her again.

"It does," she told him gently.  "But I understand if you don't want to talk about it, either."

He nodded once, setting his jaw.  He _didn't_ want to talk about it.  He felt as she carefully took his hand in hers, and he wanted to laugh—wanted to make a joke about how he was seeing someone and how uncharacteristic the action was of her, anyway—not that he _minded_ , of course, but he _was_ spoken for—but nothing felt right.  The only thing that felt real at that moment was her hand in his, anchoring him and reassuring him.

"I can't tell Marinette," he murmured, and she was silent beside him.  "Not until this is over with anyway, it's—" He looked down at his lap.  "It's a mess.  It’s not safe.”  She squeezed his hand in hers.  He cleared his throat.  "What do we do?" he asked her again.

She paused, furrowing her brow as she thought about it, considering the possibilities.  "Nothing," she said at last, and he seemed surprised.  She smiled wryly at him.  "There's not much we can do, at the moment, _Chaton_ ,” she continued.  "We never came up with a plan, really, for when we eventually found Papillon.  Our first move is to determine that course of action, so we know what to do and maybe we can confront him.  But as long as there's no _immediate_ danger—I mean, he doesn't _know_ that you heard, does he?"

He shook his head.  "He has no idea," he assured her with confidence.

"Then we figure things out, first," she said.  "It won't be any good to run in without a plan."

He nodded.  "You're right," he said, tacking on a mental ' _of course, as always_ ’ at the end.  "Do you have ideas?"

She shook her head.  "Not much, but... I can pay the guardian a visit," she suggested.  "See what he has to say about it."  She looked carefully at him.  "Are you okay, _mon minou_?"

He felt his chest constrict at the nickname—it was the one that Marinette usually reserved for him.  But he shook off the sensation.  "As okay as I can be," he told her, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Do you... Are you okay to go home?" she asked.  "Do you need to stay somewhere else?  With a friend, maybe—"

"I'll be fine," he said.  "I'll probably just... _wander_ for a bit before finally heading home.  I'm not in a rush…”

She looked up at the sky.  "It looks like rain," she said.  "Don't stay out too long."

He nodded, getting to his feet.  "Of course, my Lady," he said with a bow.  "Until next time..."  He lifted her hand, kissing her knuckles.

"Be safe," she told him.  "Take care of yourself."  She looked at him, blue eyes shining with sincerity.  "I can't do it without you, Chat Noir."  She gave him a gentle smile.  "I never would have been able to, and I never would have _wanted_ to."

His throat constricted, and he didn't trust himself to speak; instead, he gave her a tiny salute before bounding off, baton in hand.  He felt a few droplets of rain as he moved, and quickly found an alley, narrow between two buildings.  Plagg still complained about how wet he'd gotten the last time they were caught in the rain, before Marinette had given him the umbrella.  He knew he was better off in the rain as his civilian self, letting Plagg nestle away, warm and dry in his pocket.

" _Detransformation_ ," he sighed, and felt the wave of magic as he changed back into Adrien, catching his kwami in his hands.  Perhaps he'd continue to dawdle for a bit—he still didn't feel ready to go home, not yet.

And then, he heard the startled gasp behind him, and his heart stopped.   _Of course_ , his mind settled on wildly.   _That was Murphy's Law, wasn't it?  If something could go wrong, then it would._

And everything _else_  had already gone _terribly_ wrong.

He whipped around, and there was his partner, clutching her yo-yo in both hands as she stared at the boy in disbelief.

Now _everything_ had _definitely_  gone wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. So things have to get worse before they get better, right?
> 
> In other news, I already have plans and notes for my next fanfic endeavor. For those who don't know, I'm theater nerd. I'm obsessed with the _She Loves Me_ livestream from BroadwayHD (I have already watched it three times), and have been doing some crossover drawings on tumblr ( imatrisarahtops.tumblr.com ) and my next fic _might_ be a Miraculous/She Loves Me AU. That means less angst, right?
> 
> Chapter tracks: “Sad Song” by We The Kings & “Why Does it Always Rain on Me?” by Travis.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  _I can’t stand myself. I’m being held up by invisible men._   
>  _Still life on a shelf when I’ve got my mind on something else._   
>  _Sunny days, oh where have you gone?_   
>  _I get the strangest feeling you belong._
> 
>  
> 
> _Why does it always rain on me?_  
>  (“Why Does it Always Rain on Me?” by Travis)

Adrien would have been lying—to everyone, _including_ himself—if he said that he'd never considered the possibility of Ladybug accidentally finding out he was Chat Noir.

Of course, they'd had enough close calls—his first thought was always of Lady Wifi, when the ring had fallen from his finger in the freezer.  There were more instances than that, of course, when he was trapped just after his Cataclysm, the beeping of his Miraculous like a bomb's timer, because he had no doubt that the result would be explosive.  But really, he didn't expect any less when his civilian identity was famous—even if there was the possibility he didn't know the girl behind the mask in Ladybug's case, it was obvious to him that she would at the very least recognize him.  Adrien Agreste was in magazines and on billboards, and the older he got, the more frequent his modeling gigs became, the bigger the names that wanted him for their use, and the more his face would appear.  So even if he had somehow flown under Ladybug's radar before, there was no way he was still unknown to her.

When he did imagine an accidental reveal between them, it was usually due to his time running out, during or after an akuma battle.  He felt confident that was how it would work out—that suddenly his ring would give its final warning beep before he turned back into Adrien.  And honestly, he was, for the most part, okay with that.  He'd written the scene so many times in his head, let it play out, and many times he was sure that it would become a reality.  It was then, of course, that some quick thinking would prevent it, and he'd be torn between feeling relieved and a tiny bit disappointed.

He knew that it wasn't what Ladybug wanted.  He knew that the reality was most likely to be after they'd truly saved the day—when they'd saved Paris from Papillon for the final time and defeated the villain.  Then, they wouldn't be in danger and perhaps she would feel ready and they'd meet atop the Eiffel Tower.  It was another moment he'd imagined countless times, to finally see the girl he'd been fighting beside all this time, to put a complete face and name to the heroine.

Not once had he imagined that it might play out like this, the product of a stupid mistake, of running into each other because he hadn't wanted to go home and he hadn't been careful about where he released his transformation.

“ _Ladybug_!” he gasped, startled.  Plagg, even in his weakened state, was quick to conceal himself, burrowing into the boy's pocket.  Adrien opened his mouth to make an excuse—to say something very cliché about how _it wasn't what it looked like_ , but he was certain there was no fooling her.  After all, it was likely she'd had similar close encounters with strangers and her own identity, right?  But to find her own partner...

The girl's cheeks were flushed, her lips parted and eyes wide as she stared at him.  If he wasn't mistaken, her hands were trembling—she seemed to notice this as well, her grip on her yo-yo tightening as she clenched it like it was her lifeline.

He willed her to say _something_ , willed himself to find the words, if even just to apologize because he was certain this was not what she wanted.  He could hear her echoes from the handful of times they'd nearly exposed themselves to each other, the ‘ _don't look!_ ’ or ‘ _close your eyes!_ ’ or ‘ _hide!_ ’ before they were able to figure things out and prevent the inevitable.  Only _now_ , it was too late.  She couldn't avoid looking and she couldn't close her eyes, and it was definitely too late for him to hide; she'd walked in without realizing what was happening, only to see the identity of Chat Noir wash away into that of Adrien Agreste.

If he'd felt sick before, it was _nothing_ compared to what he felt now.

He finally took in a shuddering breath as the light drizzle of rain became slightly heavier, the drops landing on his face.  “I'm sorry, I—”

But she didn't wait to listen.  Instead, she turned, flinging her yo-yo and departing as quickly as she had come.  His heart dropped and he heard the rumble of thunder above him as he stared after her, the reality settling on him that _Ladybug knew his identity now..._

And she hadn't wanted to hear anything else.

* * *

Ladybug released her transformation as she landed on her bed, her trap door closing behind her.  She didn't bother turning on the light as she climbed down her steps before curling up on her chaise, pulling her knees under her chin.  Her heart was racing, and she tried to take deep breaths, trying to rectify what she had just seen— _Chat Noir is Adrien Agreste.  Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir.  Chat Noir is the boy she could barely speak to at school.  Adrien Agreste is the boy she kissed on her balcony—_

“Marinette?”

Her focus snapped to her kwami, her eyes wide, lips pressed together in a tight line.  “Chat and Adrien…" she mumbled in disbelief.  “Chat and Adrien are the same person…”

Tikki looked at her closely, her round eyes scrutinizing her in the dark of her room.  “Isn't that a _good_ thing?” she asked.

Marinette considered this.   _Was_ it a good thing?  It was definitely _something_ , but she wasn't sure if it meant it was _good_.

It meant that the boy she'd (mostly) gotten over and the boy that she quickly fell for by way of late-night talks were one in the same.  It meant that she'd managed to develop feelings for the same person twice, and if that wasn't a validation of those feelings, she wasn't sure what was.  It meant that her crime-fighting partner was one of her good friends, someone that she could trust no matter what.  It meant that the secrets that Chat had shared all belonged to Adrien, adding an entirely new dimension to him.  It meant that if anyone could understand the turmoil she had been feeling all this time, it was him.

_Knock knock knock!_

She froze, holding her breath.

 _And it meant that Papillon was Gabriel Agreste._  Her idol in the fashion industry, someone who she wanted to work for, who she wanted to have as her mentor, and he was the very villain she spent her days trying to defeat as her alter-ego.

“ _Marinette_?”

She squeezed her eyes shut.   _Of course._  Chat— _Adrien_ —he still didn't know who she was— _of course_ he would try to seek some comfort after what had just happened.  She knew that Tikki was staring at her, knew that the kwami was not currently approving of the way she refused to move.

“ _Marinette, are you awake_?”

He was unintentionally giving her an out; if she didn't move, if she didn't make a sound, he wouldn't wait around long.  Thunder rolled again, a deep grumble as a reminder of the impending storm.  She hoped he wasn't foolish enough to stay out much longer.  She held her breath until she heard the footsteps again, and she knew the boy was gone.

She wanted to cry.  It was just _too much_ —too much to find out all at once.  She couldn't rectify it all in her brain, couldn't make it make sense.  She just felt overwhelmed.

And then she hated that she was feeling that way.  She felt selfish; she knew that Chat— _Adrien_ —must feel worse than she did.  She didn't want to be selfish this time, like she had allowed herself before.  She knew it was wrong, knew that it was terrible on her part.

She had once thought she knew everything about Adrien Agreste—right down to creating a copy of his schedule.  She'd never seen it coming that he might be Chat Noir, even when Alya had suggested it in passing.   _But_ , Marinette reminded herself, _that shouldn't matter_.  Any pain or heartbreak she was experiencing right now was _not_ what she should be focusing on.  She should push everything aside and be there for him.  It didn't matter how she did it—whether it was as a friend or partner or _more_ —she knew that she needed to.

_So why hadn't she moved?_

“I'm not a hero,” she mumbled, looking at Tikki.  “I can't even be a good friend.”

“Oh, _Marinette_ ,” her kwami sighed, hugging the girl's cheek.  “It doesn't change who he is, you know.  He's done so much for you— _both_ sides of him.”

She knew this was true.  She remembered the auction, and how he'd redone all of the decorations as Chat, then gone on to set up the video call with his father as Adrien.  She remembered the café, how he'd wanted to make sure she got out safely, first as Adrien and then as Chat.  Her heart fluttered at the same time her chest constricted.  Somehow, remembering these things simultaneously made her feel better and worse.

When Tikki pulled away, she swiped at her cheeks, rubbing away the few tears that were falling.  “I'm being stupid,” she muttered.

Her kwami smiled encouragingly at her.  “It doesn't have to be as complicated as you're turning it into.”

Marinette nodded.  “I'll get over it,” she assured her.  “I don't want to lose him.”

“You can fix it,” she told the girl, “and you know the best way to do it.”

She took in a deep, calming breath.  “Tomorrow, I'll go to Master Fu,” she said.  “We'll figure out everything with—with Papillon, first,” she continued resolutely, holding her kwami's gaze with slightly shaky determination.  “And then... I'll tell him.”

* * *

When morning came, the rain still had not cleared up.  Marinette grabbed her umbrella and her heavy, weather-proof coat as protection from the cold rain.

She was quick in making her way to Master Fu's.  She'd only met the man a handful of times, but as per usual, he seemed to be expecting her.  He had tea ready, which he was pouring as she knocked and then proceeded to walk into his quarters.  He smiled at her, waving her in and taking a sip of his own tea.

She sat across from him, folding her legs underneath her on the pillow on the other side of the table.  She didn't waste a minute.

“We found Papillon.”  She waited for a response, but Master Fu merely hummed, cradling his tea in his hands.  His eyes were still focused on the cup.  “That is,” she amended, “Adr— _Chat Noir_ found him.”  She paused again, but still, nothing.  “It's his father.”

Master Fu set his tea back onto the table with a tiny _clink_.  It unnerved Marinette slightly, just the idea that _maybe_ —

“Did you know?” she asked him quietly, hesitantly.

“Do not mistake my wisdom for omniscience, Ladybug,” he told her carefully.

“But—”

“Did I know that Gabriel Agreste is Papillon?” he said.  She blinked at him, the sentence taking her by surprise.  She took her bottom lip between her teeth, looking at the table.   _Of course_ he knew who Chat was—just as he knew who she was the first time she met with him—after all, _he_ was the one who had given them the Miraculouses in the first place.  “No,” he admitted, his tone laced with the slightest hint of regret.  “But perhaps I should have.”

She looked up at him curiously and waited for him to continue, but he didn't.  Instead, she fidgeted in her seat.  “I don't know what to do,” she admitted.

Master Fu stroked his goatee thoughtfully.  “It's not as easy as fighting an akuma, is it?” he queried.  She noted the humor in the question, because had she been asked three years ago, after her first fight, _both_  would have seemed utterly impossible. A lot had changed in that time—more than she had ever thought possible.

But the question stirred something inside of her.  “Shouldn't it be?” she suggested.  He raised an eyebrow at this, and she frowned slightly, her brow knitting together.  “I mean... I don't know everything about him, or what he's after exactly, but…"  Marinette paused, thinking carefully about what she wanted to say.  “Beneath it all, he's just a person.  He wants something, and his emotions from that have taken hold of him.”

Master Fu considered her carefully.  “Then you believe there can be redemption?”

She didn't hesitate.  “Yes,” she said fiercely.  It was immediate, with no room for argument.

The elderly man smiled at her.  “That's one of the reasons I knew you'd make the perfect Ladybug.”  Marinette felt her cheeks heat up at the compliment.  “And if you are so certain, then you don't need my help with any of this.”

Marinette's face fell slightly.  “But…”  She bit her lip again.  She still felt uncertain, her pulse rapid and chest tight.

“Perhaps your hesitation has less to do with Papillon, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” he pointed out, “and more to do with your partner.”

* * *

Marinette paced her room.  Tikki sat on her desk, eyes following her anxiously.

_Perhaps your hesitation has less to do with Papillon… and more to do with your partner._

The girl turned on her heel, striding across her room once more, chewing on her lip.  She reached the end and turned again, repeating the action.  She hadn't admitted it to the man, but she was fairly certain that it was true.  But _why_?

She froze.  “I don't want him hurt,” she said out loud.  She glanced at her kwami sadly.

The truth was, she didn't know much about Adrien's relationship with his father.  She'd seen bits and pieces, small flashes and tiny tastes of what it might be like, but she never let herself make assumptions—especially not after her first impression of him had been so wrong.  She had no idea what things between them were _really_ like.

She knew that Adrien had been so unexpectedly happy when he thought her scarf had been a gift from his father.  She knew that the man thought highly of his son, having told her once—as Ladybug—that Adrien was _perfection_.  It was undoubtedly a complicated relationship, tangled and twisted like a web, pulled taught and tense in some areas while others were loose to the point of near non-existence.

And to know now that he was _Papillon_?  As Chat had said, he was the villain that had been sending his akumas to attack Paris and its citizens for years.  And the hero had been so sure that his father would not have done anything differently had he known that his son was Chat Noir.

But that didn't change who he was.  That didn't change who _either_ was—Papillon and Chat Noir, Gabriel and Adrien Agreste, father and son.  And even in the bitterness and dismissiveness of Chat's reveal of his father, Marinette knew that the boy loved him.

Whatever was in store for them, for the next part of this fight... She was certain that he was going to get hurt.

“He already _is_ hurt,” Tikki reminded the girl gently.

Marinette hung her head.  “And at least half of that is _my_ fault,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut.  “I've been so _stupid_.”  She inhaled deeply, clenching her fists.  But she couldn't dwell on that—and she _wouldn't_.  She couldn't change the past, she could only improve and fix things, to help the both of them move on.

There was no time to waste.

And the first thing she needed to do was find her partner.  “All right, Tikki, it's time to start fixing things,” she said resolutely.  “ _Transformez moi!_ ”

She pulled the yo-yo from her waist, using its call feature to contact him.  It rang, but there was no answer.

She swore under her breath.  “Come on, _Chaton_ ,” she murmured, trying again, and then once more for good measure.  But her heroine persona's good luck seemed to be out.

“ _Detransformation_ ,” she sighed, and Tikki flew from her earrings, looking worriedly at the girl.  “He's not transformed,” she said.  She had hoped he would be—she knew it was his escape—he’d admitted as much to both sides of her, after all—and was fairly certain that with recent events, he would be eager to do so, to scale the buildings of Paris and leap from rooftop to rooftop.

(She liked that image of him, so carefree, especially now that she _knew_ …)

But that wasn't her only option to get a hold of him.

She looked at her kwami, the unspoken question obvious.  Tikki nodded, so Marinette took a deep breath, reaching for her mobile.  She swiped through her contacts until her finger hovered over the name _Adrien Agreste_. She inhaled through her nose, then tapped the green call button.

She pressed the phone to her ear, her other hand raising to her mouth.  She nibbled on her thumbnail nervously.

But after several long moments, the ringing ceased, and it went to voicemail.  She quickly ended the call, frowning.  She took a deep breath and readied herself to try again.  She pressed her toe into her floor as she waited, but he didn’t answer.  She paused for a moment, silently debating.

“Third time’s the charm,” she murmured.

Only this time, it went straight to voicemail without a single ring.

Something about the situation made a sensation of dread settle deep in the pit of her stomach.  She looked to Tikki, who was waiting expectantly.  “He turned his phone off,” she said.  “He's either avoiding me or…”

“Or something worse,” Tikki filled in, looking worried.  “What does your gut say?”

Marinette didn't even have to consider it.

* * *

Adrien's heart hammered as he looked down at his phone.

_Incoming Call from... Marinette Dupain-Cheng_

A picture of the girl smiling shyly lit up the screen.

He'd had the number stored in his phone for quite some time, the result of a class project with Nino and Alya from their first year of lycée together.  Still, they rarely texted and certainly _never_ called each other, the only messages ever exchanged usually related to school assignments or something of the sort.  If she was calling, he had no doubt what that meant— _she knew_.

“She knows,” he groaned, looking at Plagg.

 _1 Missed Call_ popped up on the screen.

Plagg grimaced.  “This doesn't mean she knows—”

But he broke off when a sound emanated from the mobile again.

“She knows,” he repeated, straightening up as the phone continued to ring.  “I don't—I don't feel like Ladybug would have told her, but…"  He swallowed.  “Marinette definitely knows I'm Chat Noir.”

His kwami's frown deepened.  “What are you going to do about it?”  He glanced at the phone, just as the noise stopped.

 _2 Missed Calls_  replaced the previous notification, and Adrien snatched up the phone from the table again.  He didn't hesitate; he held down the button on the top, watching the screen go dark as the device powered off.

“Running away isn't the answer,” Plagg pointed out.

“I'm not running away!” Adrien snapped, dropping his head to his hands.  He pushed his hands through his hair, threading it between his fingers.  “I'm just... putting this off.”  He exhaled through his nose.  “This is a mess, Plagg.”

The kwami softened.  “I know,” he said, patting the boy's shoulder.  “We're going to figure it out.  Ladybug will be meeting with the guardian, and then we'll move on from there.”

Adrien shook his head.  “She can do it without me.”

Plagg startled slightly.  “What—you're _serious_?” he asked, scandalized.  “You heard her—she _needs_ you by her side!  You're a _team_!”

“Yeah,” he sighed.  He leaned back, dropping his hands to his knee, letting his head fall back against the couch.  “ _Before_ she found out who I really am.”

Plagg continued to watch the boy, unsure of what he should do and say, when at last there was a soft _knock knock knock_ on the door.  The kwami swiftly hid, diving into a ceramic mug that Adrien had left on his coffee table.

“Come in, Nathalie,” Adrien called.  But after a moment, the woman did not enter, and instead there was another, sharper, _knock knock knock_.

Adrien sighed, pushing himself up from the couch and dragging himself to his bedroom door.  He hoped he didn't look as wary as he felt, because he was sure that the woman would mention it and make a fuss over him, even if it was well-intentioned.  He quickly smoothed down his hair, straightening his shirt before opening his door and hoping that he looked presentable for his father's assistant.

What he _didn't_ expect was to see the man himself standing before him, framed by the doorway, looking as put-together and stoic as always.

Adrien felt several things happen at once:

His breath caught in his chest.

His heart stuttered against his ribs.

His stomach somersaulted and rolled until it finally dropped.

 _Relax_ , he told himself quickly.  His father was looking down at him from overtop his glasses, hands clasped behind his back.  Adrien didn't know what was coming, but he knew that he didn't want the man to catch on to his apprehension.

“Father,” Adrien said, his voice sounded strange and unnatural, and he cursed himself.  His father continued to survey him, and he just tried not to waiver under his gaze.

“I'd like to speak to you,” he said, “in my office.”

“Okay,” Adrien nodded slowly.  His fingers twitched slightly, his thumb running over his miraculous unconsciously, fully aware that Plagg was across the room.  “I'll be right there, if you want to—”

“No,” his father said easily, “I can wait.”

Adrien's mind started reeling, thinking of any way he could possible get out of it, to force his father to give him a moment so he could get his kwami, to somehow get a hold of Ladybug—something, _anything_.

But his mind was painfully blank, devoid of any plan without revealing himself.  And if there was anything that he had on his side right now, it was that even if his father had an _idea_ of who he was, he had no _proof_.  And he didn't want to give him that.

Adrien swallowed and nodded.  “All right,” he told his father.  “Let's go.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that got way out of hand. I should have expected it, though. I got about halfway done and it was already longer than normal so I cut it up. Hopefully though I'll have the next chapter tomorrow, since it's almost done as well. I'm going on vacation Thursday, so I want to be sure this is 100% complete!
> 
> For extra stuff, go to my tumblr. I have a couple of drawings I made from this story. Also, I will post the playlist in full when the story is done, and post previews for my next story as it's worked on. imatrisarahtops.tumblr.com
> 
> Chapter song: "King and Lionheart” by Of Monsters and Men
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  _Taking over this town they should worry,_   
>  _But these problems aside I think I taught you well._   
>  _That we won't run, and we won't run, and we won't run..._
> 
>  
> 
> _Howling ghosts, they reappear_  
>  _In mountains that are stacked with fear,_  
>  _But you're a king and I'm a lionheart._  
>  ("King and Lionheart” by Of Monsters and Men)

Marinette scanned the café for any sign—when she spotted two of her friends.  Alya and Nino were at a circular booth near the window where the rain was still splattering on the large window.  Her best friend talking animatedly as she scrolled through her phone with one hand, gesticulating wildly with the other; Nino, meanwhile, was leaning back, his arms in line with his shoulders against the booth’s frame, fingers tapping out an imaginary beat to whatever tune was playing in his head.

She took a deep breath.  She knew that this was risky, but she wanted to be sure.  And, well, in case things went really bad, because they unfortunately had the potential to do so, she wanted to make sure that _someone_ had just an idea of what she might do.

Nino glanced over to her at that moment, smiling and giving her a tiny wave.  Then, Alya took notice and grinned.  She waved her over, and Marinette plastered the smile on her face before making her way over to the duo.

Alya scooted over, bumping her hip into Nino’s.  Marinette smiled at the movement, knowing very well that there was plenty of room for her, and the boy was already fairly close to his end.  Still, she slid into the booth.

“What’s up, girl?” Alya asked, glancing up at her.  She considered her closely for a second, then looked at her over the rims of her glasses and said, “You know I can always see _right_ through you when something’s wrong, right?”

Marinette sighed, looking down at her hands.  “Always,” she responded a little sheepishly.

“ _Spill_.”

Marinette shifted in her seat, clearing her throat.  “Have… have either of you heard from Adrien today?” she asked, her discomfort evident.  She glanced up at her two friends.

They shared a look, eyebrows raised.  Alya shrugged.  “I haven’t,” she admitted, glancing from Marinette back to the boy beside her.  “But I haven’t really tried, either.”

Nino leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and looking thoughtful as he adjusted his glasses.  “I texted him this morning asking if he wanted to meet up, but he said he wasn’t feeling up to it,” he said with a shrug.  “I haven’t heard from him since, though.  I figured he had something going on, he almost always does.  You know how much he has on his plate.”

Marinette bit her lip, and Alya leaned forward, matching Nino’s posture.  “All right, tell me what this is about,” she demanded.

“He’s avoiding me,” Marinette said uneasily.  “And I’m… worried.”

“‘Avoiding you’,” Alya repeated, folding her arms across her chest and frowning.  “Girl I know something’s going on between you two—”

“Pretty sure everyone with eyes has seen it by this point,” Nino added, and Alya nodded.

Marinette just groaned, hiding her face in her hands.  _Of course_.  Of course they both knew, Nino and Alya were Adrien and Marinette’s respective best friends, so _of course_ they knew.  As long as they’d gotten away with hiding certain aspects of their lives, they were terribly and horribly transparent about other things.  She squeezed her eyes shut.  “It’s…”

“Complicated?” Nino offered.  He shook his head as Marinette glanced up at him.  “You two are completely on the same page, because he’s been telling me that for almost a month.”

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up at this, vaguely registering somewhere in the back of her mind that Adrien had mentioned his feelings to his best friend, if even just in passing.  In retrospect, the lunch at the café seemed to make so much more sense, now…

“Why can't this wait until Monday?” Alya asked then, tilting her head to the side.  “I mean, I know how you can get, but it can't be _that_   _bad_ if he's ignoring you.  You'll see him at school in two days.”

Marinette inhaled through her nose.  The truth was, it _could_ be _that_ _bad_ —worse, even, than anything Alya and Nino might guess.  But then again, they had no idea about the secrets being kept and what had been revealed in the last twelve hours.

“I don't know…” she muttered with uncertainty.  “You know the sort of things that happen around Paris…”

"Hey,” Alya said, reaching out a hand.  “If that's what you're worried about... If you two had some fight and you think he might be akumatized... That's what Ladybug and Chat Noir are there for, anyway,” she said with what Marinette knew was supposed to be reassuring confidence.   “If Adrien is in trouble, they'll rescue him.”

 _The only problem with that_ , Marinette thought, looking back down at her hands, _is that Chat Noir is the one who might need the rescuing._

The _upside_ to all of this, of course, was that she had a definite idea of where to find Papillon, and had at least an inkling of what the man might be capable of, after three years of Ladybug.  She tapped her fingers on the table, absent-mindedly.  She didn't have a choice.  She had helped make this mess, and she had every intention to fix it.

“I have to go,” she said suddenly.

"Where?” Alya asked, bewildered.

“I’m going to see him,” she said resolutely.

“Good luck,” Nino sighed, the words dry and a little bitter.  “His dad is the most uptight person I've met.  You'll be pretty lucky if he doesn't have the place on lockdown if something is up with Adrien.”

“I'm going to try.”  And with that, she pushed herself up from the booth and immediately made her way out of the café.

“Marinette!” Alya called after her, but the girl disappeared quickly.  Alya groaned and sank back into the booth.

“Do you want to go after her?” Nino asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Alya sighed, then shook her head.  “I can't talk her out of it.  She made up her mind before she came in here,” she said, crossing her arms.  “That was just her way of telling us.”  She bounced her heel up and down nervously.  “ _But_ I'm only giving her an hour to patch things up with Romeo before I go after her myself, so she'd better move fast.”

Nino nodded along.  But still, something struck him as odd—then again, it often did with his friends.  _Something_ was always just a bit off.  “Do you have the feeling she wasn't telling us something?” he asked after a small stretch of silence.

Alya smiled wryly at him.  “Only since the day I met her,” she said honestly.  “But you've known her a longer than I have.”

“‘ _Longer_ ’ and ‘ _better_ ’ are not the same thing," he smiled, and she lifted a shoulder in a shrug.  “Do you think he's okay?” he asked instead, frowning again and furrowing his brow as he looked at Alya thoughtfully.  “She definitely seemed worried.”

Alya bit her lip.  “Sometimes that girl's imagination can go a bit crazy…” she said, her words careful.

“But she's determined to make sure that he's okay,” he said.

The girl smiled slightly at this.  “Because she's in _love_ with him,” she said easily.  “But Marinette's amazing, you know that.  She would likely go to _pretty_ extreme lengths for _any_ of us.”

And this Nino did have to agree with—he’d seen Marinette stand up for Alya on occasion when the girl was not present to stand up for herself, and she’d even come to his aid a handful of times.

After a moment, Alya sighed.  “I just hope she's not doing something completely crazy…” she admitted.

“Isn't that a saying?” he asked.  “Something about how ‘ _love makes people do crazy things_ ’?”

Alya rolled her eyes.  “Don't give her an excuse,” she said playfully.

Nino was quiet for a moment, considering Alya.  He offered her a smile.  "Well,” he said, “I guess I can't blame her if that’s the case.”

Alya tilted her head.  “And why is that?”

“I'd probably do the same thing,” he admitted.

Alya blinked a few times before shaking her head, breaking out into a wide grin.  She shoved at his arm in a teasing manner.  “You'd _better_ be talking about Adrien.”

Nino laughed.  “Well, he _is_ my best bro,” he allowed, leaning back over to her.  “But I had a different someone in mind.”

“You're a sap,” she said, playfully pushing him away again.

“Are you complaining?”

She tapped her chin.  “You know,” she said, “I haven’t really decided yet.”

* * *

 _Luck_.  Alya had told her before that Ladybugs were symbols of luck.  She quickly made sense of it all, and later Master Fu had shed even more light upon it all—black cats and ladybugs, good and bad luck, the Miraculouses and their associated powers, creation and destruction.  Marinette had experienced unrivaled luck as Ladybug many times, even if in her civilian life it was not often the case. This was one of the times that her heroine persona’s luck was shining through.  One of Adrien’s windows was open, and she landed inside his room.

She had first attempted to assess the situation in a similar manner as before—as Marinette.  She’d rang the bell.  The first time she’d visited the Agreste mansion, the response had been quick.  But this time, it took several minutes and a couple of tries ringing the bell to get a response.

And even then, it was a clipped answer that Adrien was busy, come back another time.

She had then transformed and sought out the side of the building where she knew Adrien’s room to be, from the handful of times she’d been there, also in Ladybug’s form.  But, of course, it was empty.  She frowned as she looked around.

When she was younger, after the first time she’d been to his house, she thought the room was _amazing_.  It was everything any kid could ask for.  But now, she thought the room felt sad and empty.  And to Adrien, who used his identity as Chat Noir as his escape, it must have felt like a prison.

His bed was impeccably made, and she suddenly wondered if he’d done that himself, or a maid had.  Even his desk was impossibly neat, whereas hers was usually a mess of papers and looseleaf and sketches and textbooks.  She glanced at the trophies on the shelves that framed his the desk  There were all of these small, trivial things that made her realize she knew so little about the boy she claimed to love after just a few meetings.

In the lowest square shelf were a few books, ones she guessed had to be his favorites, considering the massive size of his library.  She pulled one from its spot, noticing that a piece of paper was tucked inside of it to keep it safe.  She removed the paper and noticed that it was a drawing—the one that she had made of Chat Noir.  The drawing that had sparked the flame.  She’d nearly forgotten about the picture, and something in her stomach fluttered a little to think that he’d _kept it…_

She forced herself to move on, walking back to the couch in the center of his room.  The worry spiked again when she noticed his mobile phone on the coffee table.  She picked it up, glancing at it for a moment before dropping it again back to the sleek surface.  She bit her lip, wondering if she should venture off into the rest of the house—

“I know where he is.”

The voice made Ladybug jump, raising her hands and she looked around a little wildly before catching sight of the black creature with large green cat eyes peeking out of a coffee mug.  Her heart was pounding, but she crouched down slightly to get a closer look at him.  Something about him seemed almost familiar…

And like that, instant realization swept through her.

“Plagg?” she asked, and at his name the kwami revealed himself, flying up.  She straightened herself so that she and the being were eye level.  She had once wondered if this moment would come, if she would ever meet Chat Noir’s kwami, especially after she’d given him baked goods that he could try.  Now, here he was and she wished that it was different, that it was a moment she could appreciate.  She would very much like to take a moment to know him, to give him a similar treat and possibly even ask him a few things about Adrien and Chat, and maybe even if he knew Tikki…

“His dad came and said he wanted to talk to him,” the kwami continued.  “I know where he took him.”

 _But_ , she quickly reminded herself, _there wasn’t time_.  There was a purpose behind them, and a definite pressure on them.  And if Plagg was telling the truth—which, she had no doubt he was, because why would he lie?—then Adrien was alone with Papillon, and his kwami was not there to help protect him.

Ladybug nodded at this.  “Show me,” she responded without missing a beat.

The kwami didn’t need to be asked twice.  Instantly, Plagg was zipping out of the room and Ladybug ran after him.  He was conscientious enough not to simply phase through solid objects in an effort to move faster, instead using the doors and halls so that Ladybug could follow easily.  He led her down a hall that didn’t look as though it was often used, then into a study.

Ladybug quickly realized that the room also served as a studio, noticing the pencils and sketches scattered about on one table, though they hardly seemed recent.  She figured that it must not be Gabriel Agreste’s primary room, but if it _did_ lead to Papillon’s lair… Any other circumstance and she would have been thrilled to have a moment to look around, but she couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t rectify that these two men were the same—the designer she idolized and the villain that she fought.

She found Plagg peering at titles on a bookshelf that took up an entire wall.  “There’s a switch,” he said, sounding sure of himself.  “Somewhere.”

“A secret passageway behind a bookshelf?” she queried, eyes roaming over the hundreds of titles.  “That seems so… cliché.  Like something from an old book or movie.”

The kwami grimaced.  “The man keeps a safe behind a huge painting of his wife,” Plagg sighed.  “After finding that, _this_ doesn’t seem surprising.”

Ladybug agreed with that.  What she knew about Gabriel Agreste was little—he was wealthy and successful, his image prided on being very sleek and clean.  In a way, the classic villain guise almost suited his style.

Ladybug traced a finger along the spines of countless books.  Leo Tolstoy, Charles Dickens, Victor Hugo, Jules Verne…  She had no idea where to look, or what might be important.  Many of them looked the same, all classic novels and plays, most of which she’d never read.  She was half-tempted to just start pulling books from the shelf at random in hopes that she would find the right one out of sheer luck.

But suddenly, one caught her eye.  It was a play by Ibsen, one she’d never read herself but knew that other classes at school had studied.  She pulled the item from the shelf, taking a step back, half-expecting the removal to trigger something.  When it didn’t, she frowned.  But at this, Plagg flew forward, squeezing into the small, empty spot.

“Aha!” came his triumphant call, and he pressed down on a small square button.  A moment later, the shelf parted.  Ladybug scooped the kwami into her hands, much to his surprise.  She took a step forward into the dark hall, the shelf sliding closed behind her once more.

Plagg looked up at her, frowning a little.  “I don’t know how helpful I’ll be after this point,” he admitted.

She nodded in understanding.  “Chat—Adrien…” she paused, swallowing her awkwardness.  “He said that you didn’t follow Papillon beyond the study.”

Plagg nodded.

She sucked in a breath.  “Do you know how long he’s been up there?” she asked.

The kwami shook his head.  “I was trying not to get caught,” he admitted.  “I wasn’t sure if Papillon would come back, or Nathalie…  And then I just hoped that—”

“You did perfectly,” Ladybug assured him.  “If you weren’t still in his room, I would have had no idea what to do.”  She stroked the kwami’s head with her thumb, and the small cat-like creature smiled.

She looked down the narrow corridor and bit her lip.  “You don’t think…” she said suddenly.  She took a deep breath.  “Papillon hasn’t hurt him, has he?  Do you think he took the Miraculous already?”

But Plagg shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “Adrien still has the Miraculous.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t still be here.”  He smiled.  “Besides, the kid is pretty smart.  Hopefully, even if his dad pretty much _knows,_ he hasn’t come out and told him he’s Chat Noir.”

Ladybug nodded.  So that would be to their advantage.  Yes, luck was on her side.  Nodding resolutely, she placed him on her shoulder and they set off through the tunnel.

Ladybug was silent as she crept along the path where Plagg had led her.  The dark secret passage was unnerving, but she didn't let her unease show.  There were more important matters.

At last, they reached the end of the corridor.  A dim light filtered down from an open trapdoor.  She could hear the voices floating down—

“ _Let me show you._ ” It was a voice she’d only heard a handful of times.  She knew that it was almost familiar, but not enough that she could recognize and place it.  Still, there was no doubt in her mind as to who it belonged to— _Papillon_.

“ _It won't work._ ”  And there he was—Chat—Adrien—her partner.

“ _I don't want to have to take it from you.  We can do this easily—we can bring her back together._ ”

She frowned.   _Her_?

Ladybug crept closer, gently placing her hand on the bottom rung of the ladder, pulling herself up.  She moved slowly, praying that the structure wouldn’t creak and expose her.  She wanted this advantage.

“ _You're wrong._ ”  Adrien’s reply was clipped and low.  His tone was a dangerous sound that she had never heard before, and it made her shiver slightly.  “ _No_.”

A sliver of the room came into view.  Papillon’s back was to the open trapdoor, and she could just barely see Adrien standing beyond the man.  Around them, she could see small white shapes shifting oddly about.  She couldn’t make them out.  She tried to ignore them, satisfied that she could continue into the room without being noticed.

“You don't understand the power of the Miraculous.  With yours and Ladybug's _—_ ”

Ladybug pulled herself up silently, thankful for all of the years she’d had the practice with her own trapdoor…

“I meant what you're doing is _wrong_ , and no I won't help you,” Adrien cut across.  “You'll have to take it from me, and I have _no_ qualms fighting.”

To his credit, he didn't make any acknowledgement of Ladybug's presence.  She knew that Adrien must have noticed her, his kwami floating just above her shoulder now.  She could tell Plagg was desperate to move and help, but was waiting to be called.  She watched as Papillon's shoulders and back tensed, fists clenching.  He took a step forward but Adrien lifted his hand, his ring glinting.

"Plagg!   _Transformez moi_!" Adrien shouted.  And with a flash of green light, Ladybug watched as the boy just a couple meters away was transformed into Chat Noir.

Papillon looked at the boy darkly.  Again he went to move forward, but Chat ran at him and slid beneath his arm, skidding to a stop in front of Ladybug.  The man turned, glaring at the pair once he realized that the girl had joined them.

“I might have guessed you'd come to his aid,” Papillon spat.

Chat looked to Ladybug, and she reached down.  He took her hand and she pulled him up, her fingers lingering on his.  She had so much she wanted to say to him—so much she _needed_ to say.  She needed to tell him how wrong and foolish she’d been, that she’d been scared but now she was _ready_.  But there was no time for heart-felt words.  Instead, she hoped that he could understand even just a fraction of that as their eyes met.  At the very least, she hoped he knew how sorry she was.

“We’re a team,” Ladybug responded easily, looking at Papillon defiantly.  She stood tall, Chat Noir at her shoulder in a similar stance.  She continued to grip his hand in hers, if only to further reassure him and show Papillon that they were partners who would not be broken apart.  There they were again—invincible once they were together, a pair that could not be defeated.  “Nothing will ever change that.”

But it seemed that the man only took this as a challenge.

“Very well,” he hissed.  He clutched the top of his cane, and he slammed the bottom tip onto the floor as he raised his other hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I snuck in some DJWifi. I also made a reference to _A Doll’s House_ which I have not yet read, but is about a married woman running away from her husband and children to go find herself. No, that's not that I think Mama Agreste did, but I couldn't resist.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. Here we go! Just the epilogue after this. Enjoyyyy.
> 
> And again, art and things over on my tumblr, imatrisarahtops.tumblr.com ;D
> 
> Chapter song: “Name” by The Goo Goo Dolls.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> _You can hide beside me,_  
>  _Maybe for a while,_  
>  _And I won’t tell no one your name._  
>  (“Name” by The Goo Goo Dolls)

It was then that Ladybug realized what the white shapes were— _butterflies_.There were hundreds of them, filling the high-ceilinged dome-shaped room.  With Papillon’s sudden strike on the floor, their wings began fluttering violently, and suddenly they were swarming the heroes.  Chat Noir pulled his hand from hers just as Ladybug threw her arms up, shielding her face.

But the creatures never attacked her.  At last, she lowered her hands, and her heart stopped.  Papillon stood, his fist clutching the front of Chat Noir’s suit.The younger boy looked furious, pushing at Papillon’s hand, but his grip was like a vice.

“I need your Miraculous,” he hissed at the girl.  “If you won’t give it to me, then perhaps to your partner.”His hold on Chat tightened.“Or in _exchange_ for him?”

“Don’t do it!” Chat shouted.

Her heart pounded, and if she was honest, she briefly considered handing over the earrings.Chat was important— _too_ important.

But at the same time, she knew that it was not the answer.She couldn’t give him the Miraculous because the results would be devastating.Instead, she clenched her jaw and shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

Papillon relinquished his grip in annoyance, letting Chat stumble back.  Then, he tapped his cane onto the ground again.  Instantly, the butterflies around her turned black, swarming together angrily.  He whipped his cane toward her, but she felt rooted to the spot.She fumbled for her yo-yo, mind racing as she thought _how_ she could possibly purify them all—

And suddenly, she was shoved out of the way, the side of her body colliding painfully with the floor as she was knocked down.

“ _NO_!”  Her scream was terrible, an awful shriek that sounded nothing like her voice.  She heard Chat's shout of pain as the akumas struck his chest like lightning, ripping right through him and bursting through the other side.  They didn't leave an outer mark, but she wondered how much of that was due to the suit's magic, keeping him safe from most harm.  She watched in horror as he fell to the ground in a heap, hands and face pressed to the floor, no longer as Chat Noir but as Adrien, the strength of it obviously draining out Plagg's remaining power.  His kwami emerged from the Miraculous, skidding several centimeters in a similarly weakened state.

Ladybug quickly shuffled back to him, placing a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder, seeking some sign of life.

 _Breathing,_ she thought desperately _, he's breathing, but—_

_Dear god, he did this to protect me—_

_His own father did this to him—_

She looked up to Papillon, but the man’s features were carefully trained, emotionless, if not a little taut and tense.She clung onto that observation, as it was still evidence that _this_ was not how he’d planned for things to go.  “End this, Ladybug,” Papillon challenged, voice just as overly devoid of any feeling, making it obvious that he was burying it.  “Your Miraculous Cure can heal him easily.”

She trembled slightly, looking back to Adrien.  The boy shifted slightly, grunting in pain as he did.  She wanted to reach out to him, to brush his hair out of his face, but instead she clutched her yo-yo.She had no choice—she knew there was the possibility that she was playing into Papillon's hands, but her priority was her partner—the boy who was so _much_ _more_  than her partner.  She pressed her hand gently to his arm before lifting herself to her feet.

She took a deep breath.  She could still defeat him, still use the Charm somehow to her advantage.  She just had to be quick—there really was more on the line than usual.  "Lucky Charm!" she shouted.  She could peripherally see as the butterflies around them slowed, then stopped, many landing to rest, but she was staring to the sky.  The object fell into her outstretched hands.

_A locket._

The metal of the small heart-shaped locket was tinted red, looking almost like dark copper, with black spots.  Curiously, she opened the object, careful of its small hinges.

As she suspected, there was a small photograph fitted inside, the face of a beautiful young woman smiling at her.  The woman's blond hair was tied into a ponytail, which fell over her shoulder.  She looked familiar, and Ladybug felt confident that she had seen a similar photograph before.

Then, she turned her head sharply, eyes falling on Adrien.   _Of course_.  He had shown her a photograph much like this one.

She’d seen the tabloid articles about it— _the disappearance of Madame Agreste_.It was a surprise to the outside world, just as it was apparently a shock to the designer and his son, even if he never openly spoke of it.When she was younger, Marinette remembered thinking it would have likely been easier if the man just addressed it—it was surely better than the outlandish rumors and accusations—but instead he stood proud and tall, and nobody was ever able to figure out what happened to her.Many assumed her to be dead, but if to find her was Papillon’s goal, perhaps she wasn’t after all.Perhaps there was something else—something more…

She took a few steps closer to Papillon, who lifted his chin.  “Have you changed your mind?” he asked in a detached tone.  “Are you prepared to put an end to his suffering?”  Ladybug clenched her jaw, and he nearly smiled.  “Very well,” he said, darkly.  “Then perhaps you'll share what object your Lucky Charm has created that seems to have you so convinced can save you both.”

She held the locket up by the chain, letting the object spin.  “It's for you, anyway,” she said smoothly.  Papillon raised an eyebrow, holding out his hand and letting her drop it into his outstretched palm.  Dubiously he examined its exterior, until at last he opened it.  Ladybug watched as the man tried to school his features, but was certain that she could see several different emotions flicker across his face this time.

“I understand,” she said simply.

“How could you possibly understand?” he sneered.  “You are nothing more than a _child_.”

Ladybug ignored the comment.  “You love her,” she continued.  “You would do anything for her.You'd do anything to get her back.”  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Adrien trying to lift his head.  Her whole body ached, wanting to go to him once more.  But she knew that time was precious—she had just under five minutes to appeal to Papillon and to use the Miraculous Cure.  She had to be precise.

“And with the Miraculouses, I will.”

 _Beep_.

 _Four minutes_ , she told herself.

“You told me once before that your son is very much like her,” she said, and she chose each word carefully.  “So while I have never met her, I can say with confidence that she would never accept the lengths you are going to,” she said with a definite power behind her voice, though it remained calm and level.  “You are harming anyone and everyone who stands in your way—and just a minute ago, that included your _son_ , the son that is the image of your wife.”

A pause.He was listening.She was getting under his skin.

“I misjudged his loyalties,” Papillon said, the words clipped.

“Listen to yourself,” Ladybug urged.“You are letting your love for her blind you to what you are doing!”

“I am doing what needs to be done!” he shouted.

Ladybug shook her head.“If you used the absolute power from the Miraculouses,” she said softly, “if you found your wife and brought her back… Would she even recognize the man that you’ve become?”Papillon looked at her sharply.“Would she come with you and stay by your side?Because I can’t believe the man that nearly destroyed their son out of desperation is the same man that she loved.”

The silence rang out in the room, deafening, threatening to swallow them all whole.It was only broken by a sharp, shrill _beep_.

Three minutes.

“There’s another way,” Ladybug said quickly, feeling each second tick away.“Monsieur Agreste,” she said gently, taking a step closer to the man to show that she wasn’t afraid.“No one should have absolute power.But even belonging to two separate people who work together, the Miraculouses have unrivaled abilities.We could help—we could look with you.We could help find her.I know that we could.”

She took a deep breath.“We could search together,” she said.“it doesn’t have to be this way.Monsieur, please…Don’t lose your son in an effort to retrieve your wife.”

The man stared at her, then he seemed to collapse in on himself.He let his knees hit the floor, cane clattering beside him.

“And why,” he demanded, and though his voice was weak and wary now, he still tried to channel some anger behind it, as though it still concealed a threat.  “Why should I trust you?  Why should I believe you'd do this for me?”

But Ladybug didn't hesitate.  She knelt down in front of Papillon, looking to him with gentle eyes that shone with sincerity.  “Not for you,” she conceded.  “But Monsieur Agreste, I am very much in love with your son.”  She heard the sharp intake of breath from the boy, followed by a cough.  She looked down, if only because it kept her from turning her attention away from the man before her and back onto Adrien.  Instead, she kept her focus on the older man, eyes meeting his once more.  “I can honestly say that I would be willing to do just about anything for him.  I want him happy.  And I have no doubt that he wants his mother back in his life just as desperately.So if I can help with this search… then I will.”

Papillon’s eyes roamed over the heroine’s face for a moment.  She had no doubt he was seeking something, some sign that she was telling the truth.  She hoped that he found it, whatever it might be, because time was still evaporating quickly…

“But to do that,” she pressed on.  “To help you… I need your Miraculous.  It belongs with the Guardian.”

 _Beep_.

Two minutes…

The man stared at her, and she mentally pleaded with him, a silent mantra of _please, please, please._

“Please, Monsieur Agreste,” she said.“For Adrien.”

The man glanced at the boy in question.Then, he hesitantly raised his hands to his neck, removing the brooch as his transformation washed away in a flash of purple light.  He clutched onto the pin tightly for a moment before dropping it into her outstretched hand.

Then, he dropped the locket beside it.

“Please,” he pleaded, closing his eyes.“Help my son.”

Ladybug nodded quickly.She pushed herself to her feet, flinging the locket into the air with a cry of, “ _Miraculous Ladybug_!”

The magic washed over them, and instantly she turned to watch Adrien.The boy tentatively pushed himself to a seated position.He still looked exhausted, and she couldn’t blame him, but the confidence swept through her with the realization that he’d be okay.

And really, it would take more than the Miraculous Cure, it would take _time_ and so much more, but she knew he’d be okay.

Before she could reach out for the boy, Gabriel was at his son’s side, enveloping him in a tight embrace.She watched as the blond blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by the act of affection.Then, he let his eyes flutter closed, and lifted his hands to his father’s back to return the hug.

“I’ll give you two privacy,” Ladybug said softly, and both men turned slightly to her.“I’ll be back,” she quickly added, “but…”

Gabriel nodded.She smiled gently at him, then made her way to the window.

“Wait!” Adrien called to her, and he pulled himself from his father and rushed to grab her hand.  She turned, her other hand still braced on the window.  She smiled reassuringly at him, just as her earring gave its final _beep_.  He let her hand slip from his grip, and she reached for the earring.

He took a step back, still holding her gaze.  He understood, knowing that she still wanted control over the situation, especially after everything that had happened, to reveal herself on her terms.  He nodded at her.   _Soon_.  It was unspoken, but it was understood.

And she knew too that he and his father needed this moment—it belonged to them.She wasn’t _really_ going anywhere.

She nodded in return, in some sort of reassurance.  She took her yo-yo in hand and flung it out.  And then she was gone.

* * *

“I'm going out.”

Gabriel Agreste looked up at this son.  Hours had passed, much of it a blur to Adrien—he still couldn’t seem to wrap his head around it, that it was done.  And the way that it transpired, it all seemed so different from what he’d imagined the first time he put on his Miraculous.

Adrien watched as his father's jaw tensed slightly.  For a moment he wondered if the man would object; but, he had to know now that he didn't have a say in the matter.  Now, at least, Adrien was being honest about it.  In fact, with the way things had gone, Adrien doubted anyone would blame him if he hadn't said a word.  But that wasn't what he wanted—he wanted _improvement_ , he wanted to right all of the wrongs that had been done.  So instead of making things between him and his father more tense, he was standing at his father's door informing him about matters in an effort of reconciliation.

His father nodded curtly.

Adrien accepted the response and turned away, when his father cleared his throat.  “Be... safe.”

The corner of his lips twitched into a smile.  He knew that it was going to be difficult.  The upcoming days—weeks— _months_ —were going to be a challenge, all tense and strained and wary.  There was no undoing the things that had been done; much of it couldn’t even be repaired.  Instead, they would have to build everything anew, learning to accept the past and the mistakes made.

Adrien made his opening move, and his father responded well in kind.   _This_ , he thought as he kept walking, _is progress_.

He transformed and leapt from his bedroom window.  It was still raining slightly, but he needed to escape from the house.He knew Plagg would probably complain later about getting wet, but it would hold no malice; if anything, he knew the kwami was just happy that it was over, that they were together again and things hadn’t ended badly.  No… they both needed to get out, even if just for a bit.

Finally, he found himself on the ledge of a roof; it gave him a view of the Eiffel Tower, his favorite Parisian landmark, its lights glistening beneath the dark and cloudy evening sky.  He sat a meter from the edge, leaning his back against an adjacent building's higher wall.  He pulled his legs to his chest, resting his cheek on his knees so he could watch the city.

The entire city moved, continuing on, everyone living their lives without knowing that Papillon was no longer a threat, without knowing what the two heroes had accomplished, without knowing what he himself had gone through in the past twenty-four hours.  It was so bizarre to him.

He and Ladybug would make an announcement of sorts later—probably do an interview with Alya because she deserved to be the one with the scoop.  But there was time for that.  Now, the two heroes needed a break—they needed to collect themselves and the pieces before they were ready.

The rain above him ceased suddenly, and he looked up to see none other than his partner. She was looking at him gently, holding an umbrella over them both as she knelt before him. He looked at her curiously, the feeling of déjà vu completely undeniable.

_He knew this umbrella._

“Ladybug?” he said curiously. It was laced with so many questions, of which he was struggling to pick just one to ask. _What are you doing? Why are you here? How did you find me? Where did you get this umbrella? Who are you, really?  Did you mean what you said?_  The words all got stuck in his throat and instead, he just gazed at her like he'd never seen her before.

“Can I tell you a story?” she asked.  She seemed nervous. It was such a strange look on her, having only seen it a handful of times. But still, something about it seemed familiar to him now, the look of uncertainty in large, bright blue eyes…

He nodded. 

“When I started my final year of collège, on the second day of school, a girl put gum on my chair because she thought it would ‘ _teach me a lesson_ ’ for supposedly being rude to her. I caught a boy trying to fix it, but I thought he was the one leaving the gum. Needless to say, I was quite upset.”

She smiled gently at him. His heart had stopped in recognition of the story, but he couldn't speak. Instead, his mind was racing, wheels and gears turning as all of the pieces slotted together with finality, confirming the tiny suspicions that had been growing, coming to a head in Papillon's lair. He stared at her, lips parted, unable to hide his amazement.

“It was raining after school,” she continued. “He apologized and explained himself and the incident. And then…” She chuckled under her breath, closing her eyes at the memory. "He gave me this umbrella.”She opened her eyes again, glancing up at the inside of the object, then looking at the boy before her. “And that's how I fell in love with Adrien Agreste.”

Chat felt his cheeks warm up beneath the mask. All those years, all of that time—he was so convinced she could _never_ like him, when in reality...

“Then I lent the umbrella to Chat Noir,” she went on. “It was raining and he was soaked. He returned the umbrella a few nights later. He asked for the story behind it.” She smiled wryly at this. “I didn't tell him the whole truth. But he came back anyway.”

She took his hand in her own, and he was reminded of the time on Marinette's balcony, when she had been crying and broken, only the roles were reversed—

“Chat Noir showed me a side of himself that I had never known before—one I was afraid to know for quite some time. But I had always wanted him to know both sides of me before I felt like I could tell him who I was, because I was so afraid he was in love with someone who wasn't real…” She shook her head. “But I let him in, and I was so happy that I did.”  She squeezed his hand. “Because it took me a bit longer, yes, but that... _that's_ how I fell in love with Chat Noir.

“But the important part of the story isn't any of that,” she assured him quickly. Naturally he mentally disagreed, thinking that _yes this was all very important_. Still, he didn't object. He only listened. “The important part is when I realized I've been a complete _idiot_ because I have been in love with the same person all along, and when I realized that was the case, I tried to turn that into a problem. But I was being selfish and stupid and I felt hurt, but that was more my fault than anyone else's.” She took a deep breath, holding eye contact with him to ensure that he understood the weight of what she was saying. “The important part is now, because I've realized my mistake and I'm _so sorry._ And if you aren't too upset or disappointed with me, if you don't hate me for all of the lies and the times I felt like I couldn't tell you the whole truth, then…”  She trailed off, looking away and biting her lip.

Chat reached up, placing a hand on her cheek. She looked to him, her eyes shining with hope but also just a small hint of fear at the thought of rejection—

“I'm so glad that it's you,” he told her simply. He leaned forward, and she met him halfway, their lips colliding smoothly in undeniable perfection. 

And how could it be anything but perfection? There she was—his Lady and his Princess, together as one in his mind now. The dots connected so easily, making perfect sense to him and he couldn't be happier.

It just made sense.  Every moment between them, every thing that she said, every opinion and worry.  He couldn't dream of hating her, of even being angry.  It was all so _her_ , every second of it—from the hesitance to discover who he was to the protectiveness of his identity, from the need for secrecy to the slightly misguided attempts at trying to set things right when they were not.  He couldn't fault her for doing what she thought she had to; if anything, it just reminded him that they were flawed—the _both_ of them—and that was perfectly fine by him.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around the girl. After a moment, she abandoned her quest to keep them dry.Instead, she held tightly onto the brilliant boy in front of her, pressing her hand firmly into his back. This was so much more important than the consequences of getting wet from the rain, which was letting up at long last. She dropped the umbrella from her hand, letting it fall to the rooftop, forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by me: http://imatrisarahtops.tumblr.com/post/144733837543/experimenting-with-different-methods-of-coloring


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter songs: “Stand by You” by Rachel Platten & “Heroes (We Could Be)” by Alesso
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  _We could hide away in daylight._   
>  _We go undercover, wait out the sun._   
>  _Got a secret side in plain sight._   
>  _Where the streets are empty, that’s where we run…_
> 
>  
> 
> _We could be heroes, me and you._  
> 

"Ready Nino?" Alya nodded over to Nino, who was holding the camera.

He nodded in response. "Ready."

Chat had to give Alya credit—she really wanted to do this interview right. When he had discussed with Marinette how they should reach out to the girl to make their press statement assuring that Papillon was out of the picture, he wasn't sure what to expect from the aspiring reporter, but it wasn't this. They were currently seated in Nino's basement, the furniture rearranged slightly to almost look like the set of a talk show, with Alya, dressed in business casual, seated in an arm chair and the two heroes on the matching sofa. The coffee table was positioned in front of them with glasses of water. It was funny, because the setting wasn't all that unfamiliar to Adrien, but as _Chat Noir_ , he felt nervous. He was tempted to down the whole glass of water with how dry his throat was, and just for the sake of having something to do.

He glanced at Ladybug, who offered him a small smile in reassurance.

They'd discussed everything that would be said during the interview.  It wouldn't be a live broadcast, so it could always be edited later, but all the same they had prepared. They had a plan. Really, when he thought about it, _Ladybug_ should be nervous—more nervous than _he_ was. How was she _not_ nervous?

Nino held up three fingers. "In _three_... _two_..." He lowered one finger, then the last without saying the word, ' _one_ ', then pointed at Alya.

"This is Alya Cèsaire coming to you on the Ladyblog with your official scoop on what's going on with Paris's heroes," she said, and Chat admired the composure the girl had. She had a fantastic presence in front of the camera. He knew that one day she'd be a world-class reporter. "Today, we have an exclusive interview with both Ladybug and Chat Noir. Now, this is unprecedented, as our heroes have actually reached out to _me_." She glanced over to them.

"That's right," Ladybug responded.

"I can't help but be surprised," Alya admitted. "So tell us: what's going on?"

Ladybug straightened herself slightly, taking in a deep breath, looking to Alya. "For the past three years, it has been our priority to keep the citizens of Paris safe, primarily from the akumas and villains created by Papillon," she said. "I am pleased to say that that is no longer necessary—Papillon will no longer be a threat."

Alya leaned forward slightly. "Then you've defeated him?"

Chat grimaced a little at the word—it made it sound like there had been a huge battle, a standoff between _good_ and _evil_. That was not the case at all. "In a manner of speaking," he said.

"I know I'm speaking for much of Paris when I say this is surprising to hear," Alya admitted. "Many of the akumas over the years have wreaked havoc very publicly, often going as far as targeting landmarks and other famous spots. I would have expected something similar for a showdown with Papillon himself."

"To be honest," Ladybug said, "I don't think we were expecting how it unfolded, either."

"Could you elaborate on that?" Alya asked.

This time, Ladybug glanced to her partner, and Chat took a deep breath. "There was a lot more to consider about Papillon _personally_ that we didn't expect," he said. "I think Ladybug handled it all much better than I did, really."

The heroine smiled gently at him, then turned back to Alya. "We always knew that people who were akumatized were targeted because of their emotions," she said, choosing each word with care and precision. "They felt something strong, and Papillon used that. In the end, I... I realized how similar that was to Papillon himself. He isn't _evil_ —he never _was_. He just suffered through loss that he couldn't handle, and he sought to right those wrongs through the power of the Miraculous—what he was trying to acquire from Chat and me. He made some unfortunate, misguided choices."

Alya nodded thoughtfully at this. "But you said he's no longer a threat."

Chat nodded. "He can no longer use his powers against anyone," he said. "We've returned his own Miraculous to where it belongs."

"Does that mean an end for Ladybug and Chat Noir?"

"No!" Ladybug said quickly with a smile.

" _Paw_ -sitively not," Chat added with a smirk.

"Becoming Ladybug changed my life," she said. "I don't think I could ever give it up. At least, not completely."

"I couldn't have said it better myself, my Lady."

"We will stay in Paris," she continued. "Maybe we won't be seen quite as much, if there isn't a need without the akumas, but... We won't leave. Not really."

"As if you could get rid of us, anyway."

Ladybug chuckled and Alya smiled. "You said being Ladybug changed your life," Alya directed at the girl. "How is that?"

Ladybug took a deep breath again, looking down at her gloved hands. "I never thought of myself as a hero, or having the capability of being one," she said sincerely. "I thought I was too clumsy and I never said the right things... I almost refused to be Ladybug."

" _What_?" Alya asked, scandalized.

Chat smiled slightly at the memory. He knew that during Stoneheart, his partner had felt very defeated and unsure of herself. He was so honored that he got to witness every moment of that progress, seeing how far she had come, blossoming into the confident heroine she was now. And _now_ , after learning the truth, he could confidently say that he saw the same in Marinette herself.

"It's true," she continued. "I had two reasons for accepting it, in the end. The first is obviously Chat Noir." She glanced over to her partner, grinning. He placed a hand on hers, and was pleased when she didn't withdraw. "He gave me so much encouragement, and he still does. He's the best partner I could have. I don't know what I would do without him."

His heart fluttered. He stood by what he'd first said after meeting her—this girl was amazing. He was so lucky to have her—every part of her, now.

He was broken out of his reverie when he heard Alya clear her throat. The girl was looking quite pleased with herself. Chat pulled his hand back, slightly embarrassed.

"You said there were two reasons," Alya said. "What's the other?"

"My best friend," Ladybug said simply. "Though I feel like a terrible friend sometimes because I think she would hate me if I told her after all this time that I've been Ladybug."

"I'm sure that isn't true," Alya quickly interjected.

Ladybug smiled a little wryly. "She's amazing, though," she continued. "I saw her in trouble during that first akuma attack and it made me realize I couldn't stand by and watch." She smiled more fully then, softer and more nostalgic. "From the time we first met, I looked up to her and wished I could be more like her. She stood up for me without even knowing me."

Alya grinned at this. "Ladybug's own hero!" she commented. "What an _honor_ that must be!"

Ladybug chuckled at this. "She really is," she said. "After Ladybug's first appearance, after I messed things up, I was talking to her at school... I asked her, ' _What if Ladybug isn't meant to be a superhero?_ '" Chat watched as the red-headed girl's brow furrowed at hearing this information. "She told me that she'd seen Ladybug with her own eyes, that _'that girl is a true hero'_." Ladybug sighed at the memory. "It really meant more than she could ever imagine."

Alya frowned slightly.

"I used to think she'd never even believe me, if I told her," Ladybug admitted. "I could barely even talk to the guy I liked. But even that's changed..." She glanced fleetingly at Chat before looking back to Alya.

Alya was staring at Ladybug as though she'd never properly seen her before. Without turning, she said, "Nino, cut."

The boy blinked. "What?"

" _Cut_!" Alya repeated, waving her hand. She turned to him to glare for not listening the first time she said it. "Stop filming!"

He fumbled to shut the camera off. "Alya, why—"

But Alya was staring at Ladybug again, looking carefully, analyzing. " _Marinette_?" she asked at last.

"No way," came Nino's shocked mumble.

Ladybug smiled sheepishly at the girl before finally offering a tiny nod.

Alya pulled back sharply, gaping, her mouth open. For a moment Chat assumed the worse and was prepared to run damage control. Then, suddenly, Alya lunged forward, wrapping her arms around her best friend.

"Oh my god, _Marinette_ ," she muttered, squeezing her tightly.

Chat smiled at them, folding his arms over his chest as he watched the two girls. He felt satisfied—he could only imagine how vindicated Ladybug felt, for Alya to _finally_ know she was Marinette. That just left...

"Wait," Alya said suddenly, pulling away slightly. She looked at her best friend, then to Chat. "You said—that means—he..."

"Adrien," Nino supplied. He took a seat on the coffee table, shaking his head in disbelief.

This time, the only response was a slight smirk from the hero.

"I _knew_ it!" Alya said, and this took Chat mildly by surprise. He raised an eyebrow. "I mean... Well..."

Marinette rolled her eyes, looking to Chat. "She had a crazy theory and colored Chat's costume on top of a photo of you," she explained.

"How crazy was it really if it ended up true?" Alya asked, crossing her arms.

"She has a point," Nino said, smiling.

"So that means you two are finally together," Alya then said, the wide grin spreading across her face.

"As Chat and Ladybug?" the other girl asked, a slight teasing tone to her voice. "Or Marinette and Adrien?"

"Or some other combination," Chat offered.

Alya narrowed her eyes. "I want to smack you for that comment, but after seeing the moon eyes you were giving her as Marinette before the auction..." She turned back to her best friend. "You two didn't know yet, did you? There's no way you would have kept your cool around him if you knew at the time."

Marinette smiled hesitantly at her friend. "So does this mean you're not mad?" she asked instead, ignoring the question and subsequent accusation.

"Of course not," Alya said.

"It honestly explains a lot," Nino added with a laugh.

"Though you have quite a bit of explaining to do," Alya told them, and Nino nodded in agreement.

Chat and Ladybug shared a look. Ladybug took a deep breath. "What do you want to hear?"

"All of it," Alya responded.

Chat smiled. "Then I guess let's start at the beginning..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the end! Hope you all enjoyed. We'll see if I add any more to this story. I have other projects I want to do, especially a She Loves Me/Miraculous AU. But I love reviews, I love tumblr asks, all of that. Talk to me if you have ideas or requests or anything of the sort, and I'll see what I can do. (:
> 
> Thank you for all of your support. You are so fantastic. I really mean that. I mentioned before I never thought this fic would become as popular as it did and it blows me away. Thank you!!


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